The Design, Production and Reception of Eighteenth-Century Wallpaper in Britain 9781472456151, 9781351021784

Table of contents :
The Design, Production and Reception of Eighteenth-Century Wallpaper in Britain- Front Cover
The Design, Production and Reception of Eighteenth-Century Wallpaper in Britain
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
List of figures
List of plates
Preface
Introduction
In search of paper hangings: visual and written evidence
Interpretations of eighteenth-century wallpaper
‘Antipodes of design’
Recent approaches to wallpaper history
Coming home: wallpaper and eighteenth-century material culture
‘Our new paperhangings’
Notes
Chapter 1: ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’: the arrival of wallpaper
A new commodity: from concealment to the wall
Wallpaper’s growth: imitation and gentility
Design and workshop practice
Notes
Chapter 2: A contested trade
Paper hangings manufacture: materials and techniques
The organisation of the paper hangings trade
Mapping supply
Regulation and pricing strategies
Preparation and hanging
Trading networks
Retailing and viewing paper hangings
Consumption in town and country
Notes
Chapter 3: Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter: ‘India’ and ‘mock India’ papers, pictures and prints
Acquiring and hanging India paper and India pictures
India paper in the country house
India pictures, plains and ‘pencilling’
India paper in the London house
Mock India papers and pictures
Notes
Chapter 4: In search of propriety: flocks and plains
Flocks and mock flocks: in search of colour, pattern and texture
‘Hanging and Colouring the Room’: plain papers
Notes
Chapter 5: Challenging the high arts: papier mâché, stucco papers and ‘landskip’ papers
Papier mâché
Stucco papers
‘Landskip, Ruins, Figures & C’: wallpapers depicting the‘Ruins of Rome’
Notes
Chapter 6: ‘Our modern paper hangings’: in search of the fashionable
and the new
The print room
French products, English names
Metallic finishes
Hanging ‘in the French manner’: the compartment
Wallpapers imitating stone
Arabesque schemes
Notes
Epilogue: ‘Pleasing decay’ – the rediscovery of
eighteenth-century wallpapers
Notes
Appendix 1: List of principal wallpapered rooms
discussed, c.1714–c.1795
Appendix 2: List of eighteenth-century London
paper hangings tradesmen discussed
Bibliography
Abbreviations
Manuscript collections
Printed primary sources
Secondary literature
Index

Citation preview

The Design, Production and Reception of Eighteenth-Century Wallpaper in Britain

Wallpaper’s spread across trades, class and gender is charted in this first full-length study of the material’s use in Britain during the long eighteenth century. It examines the types of wallpaper that were designed and produced and the interior spaces it occupied, from the country house to the homes of prosperous townsfolk and gentry, showing that wallpaper was hung by Earls and merchants as well as by aristocratic women. Drawing on a wide range of little known examples of interior schemes and surviving wallpapers, together with unpublished evidence from archives including letters and bills, it charts wallpaper’s evolution across the century from cheap textile imitation to innovative new decorative material. Wallpaper’s growth is considered not in terms of chronology, but rather alongside the categories used by eighteenth-century tradesmen and consumers, from plains to flocks, from Chinese papers to papier mâché and from stucco papers to materials for creating print rooms. It ends by assessing the ways in which eighteenth-century wallpaper was used to create historicist interiors in the twentieth century. Including a wide range of illustrations, many in colour, the book will be of interest to historians of material culture and design, scholars of art and architectural history as well as practising designers and those interested in the historic interior. Clare Taylor is Senior Lecturer in Art History, The Open University. Cover image: Detail of flocked wallpaper hung at Eagle House, Bathford, c.1750–80. Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.237–1968. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

The Histories of Material Culture and Collecting, 1700–1950 Series Editor: Stacey J. Pierson, University of London

The Histories of Material Culture and Collecting, 1700–1950 provides a forum for the broad study of object acquisition and collecting practices in their global dimensions. The series seeks to illuminate the intersections between material culture studies, art history, and the history of collecting. It takes as its starting point the idea that objects both contributed to the formation of knowledge in the past and likewise contribute to our understanding of the past today. The human relationship to objects has proven a rich field of scholarly inquiry, with much recent scholarship either anthropological or sociological rather than art historical in perspective. Underpinning this series is the idea that the physical nature of objects contributes substantially to their social meanings, and therefore that the visual, tactile, and sensual dimensions of objects are critical to their interpretation. This series therefore seeks to bridge anthropology and art history, sociology and aesthetics. For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com/The-Histories-ofMaterial-Culture-and-Collecting-1700-1950/book-series/ASHSER2128 Materializing Gender in Eighteenth-Century Europe Edited by Jennifer G. Germann and Heidi A. Strobel Silver in Georgian Dublin Making, Selling, Consuming Alison FitzGerald Private Collecting, Exhibitions, and the Shaping of Art History in London The Burlington Fine Arts Club Stacey J. Pierson Nature and the Nation in Fin-de-Siècle France The Art of Emile Gallé and the École de Nancy Jessica M. Dandona Collecting and Displaying China’s “Summer Palace” in the West The Yuanmingyuan in Britain and France Louise Tythacott

The Design, Production and Reception of Eighteenth-Century Wallpaper in Britain Clare Taylor

First published 2018 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 Clare Taylor The right of Clare Taylor to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-4724-5615-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-351-02178-4 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon LT Std by Swales & Willis Ltd, Exeter, Devon, UK

For Peter

Q Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group

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Contents

List of figures ix List of plates xiii Preface xvi Introduction

1

1 ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’: the arrival of wallpaper

19

2 A contested trade

38

3 Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter: ‘India’ and ‘mock India’ papers, pictures and prints

63

4 In search of propriety: flocks and plains

88

5 Challenging the high arts: papier mâché, stucco papers and ‘landskip’ papers

106

6 ‘Our modern paper hangings’: in search of the fashionable and the new

132



Epilogue: ‘Pleasing decay’ – the rediscovery of eighteenth-century wallpapers Appendix 1: List of principal wallpapered rooms discussed, c.1714–c.1795 Appendix 2: List of eighteenth-century London paper hangings tradesmen discussed Bibliography Index

155

165 172 188 203

Q Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group

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Figures

Unless otherwise stated all wallpapers listed are English.

1.1 Lining paper from charter or deed box, Corpus Christi College, Oxford, late seventeenth century, printed in black ink. Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford, ANLoan.21.1.b. By permission of the President and Fellows of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. 1.2 Wallpaper imitating tapestry, associated with Aldford House, Park Lane, London, late seventeenth century, stencilled in yellow, red and green over black ink printing. Image courtesy of the Whitworth,  The University of Manchester. 1.3 Trade card for The Blue Paper Warehouse, on Aldermanbury, London, c.1702, engraved by John Sturt (1656–1730). The Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, Gough Maps 45, fol. 173. 1.4 Trade card for Thomas Bromwich (active 1729–d.1787) at the sign of the ‘Golden Lyon’, on Ludgate Hill, London, c.1748, printed engraving. British Museum, Heal Collection 91.5  The Trustees of the British Museum. 1.5 Trade card for Clarkson and Porter’s paper hangings warehouse in Bermondsey, London, c.1800, printed engraving. British Museum, Heal Collection 91.13.  The Trustees of the British Museum. 1.6 Trade card for Matthias (Matthew) Darly’s (c.1720–c.1779) manufactory for paper hangings at the sign of the ‘Acorn’, the Strand, London, c.1760–70, engraved by Darly. British Museum, Heal Collection, 91.25. Photo:  The Trustees of the British Museum. 2.1 Benjamin Moore (active 1750s–60s), embossed paper, stencilled in pink, mauve and turquoise, printed in gilt and lettered along lower edge ‘B. Moore Newgate Street LONDON 1763’. Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.1972 –1927. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. 2.2 ‘Hunting frieze’, printed in black and stencilled in pink, red and two shades of green, with frame marks datable to 1794 (originally from Cranford House, Middlesex). Victoria & Albert

20

21

23

25 29

33

43

x  List of figures

2.3 2.4

2.5 2.6 3.1

3.2

3.3

3.4

4.1

Museum, London, E.1244 –1937. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. Trade card for Moses Staples (d.1778), stationer on Lombard Street, London, printed engraving, c.1773. London Metropolitan Archives, City of London. Card advertising sales of paper hangings alongside the newspaper The Exeter Flying Post, printed engraving, c.1800. The Bodleian Library, University of Oxford: John Johnson Collection: Provincial Booktrade 2 (69a). Trade card for James Wheeley’s (active 1754–1818) paper hanging warehouse on Aldersgate Street, London, printed engraving, c.1754. British Museum, Banks Collection 91.30.  The Trustees of the British Museum. Handbill for (Richard) Masefield’s (fl.1763–d.1787) manufactory in the Strand, London, printed engraving, 1760s. British Museum, Banks Collection 91.20.  The Trustees of the British Museum. Chinese Bedroom, Blickling Hall, Norfolk, hung c.1761, with landscape wallpaper and imitation bamboo trellis border, painted in ink and colour washes, Chinese, over western paper coloured to resemble sky, with overmantel composed of printed, coloured and collaged Chinese pictures, photographed in 1953 by A.F. Kersting. H 4978. Conway Library, The Courtauld Institute of Art, London. Trellis patterned wallpaper composed of intertwining ribbons enclosing motifs including musical instruments, flowering and fruiting plants and painting materials, hung c.1758, printed in ink and painted in body colour, Chinese (originally from the State bedchamber, Hampden House, Buckinghamshire). Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.948 –1978. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. Detail of the Hon. Mary Leigh’s bedchamber, Stoneleigh Abbey, Warwickshire, decorated with India pictures (Chinese) and papier mâché ornaments (English), supplied and installed by Bromwich & Leigh in 1763–64. Illustrated in W.A. Thorpe, ‘Stoneleigh Abbey and its Furniture, II – the Gothic Tradition’ The Connoisseur 119, no. 503 (March 1947), pp. 14–20, at p. 19, photograph published in 1947 courtesy of Emile de Bruijn. First floor room at Berkeley House, Wotton-under-Edge, Gloucestershire, hung after 1740, with wallpaper imitating Chinese landscape wallpaper, painted in tempera with Rococo style border, printed over a black ground, after 1740, photographed c.1905. Illustrated in Archibald G.B. Russell, ‘A Seventeenth-Century Wallpaper at Wotton-under-Edge’, The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs vol. 7, no. 28 (July 1905), pp. 309–13, at p. 311. Dressing room adjoining the first floor bedchamber (see Plate 9) at Clandon Park, Surrey, hung c.1735, with stencilled and flocked wallpaper in blues on a yellow ground, photographed as the Museum Room c.1985. Photo: Clareville Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of The National Trust.

47 51

52 54 55

70

73

74

80

95

List of figures xi

4.2 Mock flock wallpaper, c.1760–65, block printed in black, white and dark green on a green ground in imitation of flock, stamped ‘PAPER J’ (originally from a second floor rear room at 17, Albemarle Street, London). English Heritage ENASC 88682052/2. Author’s photo. Courtesy of English Heritage. 4.3 Diana Sperling, Papering the Saloon at Titchford Park, September 2nd 1816, watercolour, 1816, illustrated in Gordon Mingay, Mrs Hurst Dancing, and other Scenes of Regency Life (London: Victor Gollancz, 1981), plate 26. Neville Ollershaw 1981/Photograph of the original pictures by Rodney Wright-Watson,  Victor Gollancz Ltd 1981. Author’s photo. 5.1 Fragments of gilded papier mâché fillets from the Breakfast Room, Osterley Park, Middlesex, 1770s. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust. 5.2 Robert Stark (active 1760s–1780s), designs for papier mâché picture frames, pen and ink, 1764. Warwickshire County Record Office 00307 L06/1108. Author’s photo. 5.3 John Carter (1748–1817) Passage to the Gallery, and Interior of the Holbein Room at Strawberry Hill, pen and ink and watercolour, c.1790. Lewis Walpole Library, Farmington, CT, sh-000426. Courtesy of the Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University. 5.4 Drawing room at Alscot Park, Warwickshire, decorated with papier mâché ornaments on the ceiling and overmantel, supplied and installed by Thomas Bromwich’s, 1765, photographed for Country Life in 1958. Country Life Picture Library. 5.5 Stucco paper, c.1760, block printed in black and pale grey on cream (? originally yellow) ground (originally from Earl’s Hall Farmhouse, Prittlewell, Essex). Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E. 1210–1965. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. 5.6 Stair at the Ancient High House, Stafford, decorated between first and second storeys with figure and landscape panels, framed with lengths of ceiling paper in imitation of stucco, hung after 1758, block printed in brown, black and white on a grey ground. Stafford Borough Council. 5.7 Reproduction of portion of a stucco ceiling paper imitating classical architecture and sculpture, original late 1760s, block printed in browns, white and black on a buff ground (originally from The Old Manor, Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire). Illustrated in A.V. Sugden and J.L. Edmondson, A History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914, 1925, plate 39B. Author’s photo. Reproduced with kind permission of B.T. Batsford, part of Pavilion Books Company Limited. 5.8 Upper hall (south wall), Harrington House, Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire, hung c.1786, with paper panels imitating ruins and grotesques enclosing figure groups, painted en grisaille on a pink ground, photographed in the 1920s. National Monuments Record, BB79/04833. Source: Historic England Archive.

97

101 110 111

114

115

117

121

122

124

xii  List of figures

5.9 Stucco wallpaper with pattern composed of Chinese and Rococo style motifs, block printed in white, black and greys on a grey ground, stamped GR for 1760–83 (originally from the ground floor, formerly the hall [?] of an Oxfordshire vicarage). Whitworth Art Gallery, W.1995.6. Image Courtesy of the Whitworth,  The University of Manchester. 6.1 John Baptist Jackson (c.1700–after 1773), landscape panel ‘After Marco Ricci’, 1744, colour woodcut. Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.2696–1920. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. 6.2 Outer hall, Newtimber Place, Sussex, decorated c.1796 with painted reproductions of enlarged images from Sir William Hamilton, Collection of Engravings from Ancient Vases, attributed to Biagio Rebecca or John Francis Rignaud, photographed for Country Life in 1916. Country Life Picture Library. 6.3 Drawing room, Paxton House, Berwickshire, showing pilasters and an over-door, block printed in colours, French, supplied by Chippendale & Haig in 1789, photographed for Country Life in 1993. Country Life Picture Library. 6.4 Upper hall, Kempshott Park, Surrey, decorated c.1795 with arabesque panels, borders, pilasters and an over-door, block printed in colours, French (Arthur et Robert), photographed before 1930. Courtesy of the Saint Louis Art Museum. 6.5 Attributed to Eckhardts, silvered satin panel painted en grisaille with plaques of Scottish Border landscapes, c.1790s. With Sotheby’s 19 July 1968, lot 127A. National Art Library 923.ZZ.19680719, Victoria & Albert Museum. Photo:  Victoria & Albert Museum, London. 6.6 Chinese wallpaper hung in the Octagon Room, Winnington Hall, Cheshire, after 1775, photographed in 1923. Catalyst Science Discovery Centre, Widnes.

126

135

135

145

146

147 150

Plates

  1

Ceiling paper and border, after 1715 and before 1725, stencilled and block printed, stamped ‘PAPER 8’ (originally from a house in Faversham, Kent). Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.1345, 1346–1963. Photo: © Victoria & Albert Museum, London.   2a&b Painted and embossed leather panel late seventeenth century, and flocked panel on a mica glazed ground, late seventeenth century (originally hung in an alternating pattern in a room at Ivy House, Worcester, c.1680). The flock attributed to the Blue Paper Warehouse (see Figure 1.3), the leather by a London maker. Victoria & Albert Museum, London, E.337–1918. Photo: © Victoria & Albert Museum, London.   3 Chinese bedroom, Blickling Hall, Norfolk, detail of ‘rail’ border imitating bamboo trellis, hung c.1761 (see Figure 3.1), painted in ink and colour washes, Chinese. Inscribed (verso) ‘1758’ and ‘[?] Suffolk’ of ‘[?] Lott 30’. Author’s photo. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.   4 Library (formerly the State bedchamber), Hampden House, Buckinghamshire, hung with Chinese wallpaper c.1758 (see Figure 3.2), photographed 1890s. Buckinghamshire Photographs Archive, Great and Little Hampden 88. From the Centre for Buckinghamshire Studies collections.   5 Wallpaper panel imitating grotesques with Chinese figures drinking tea and imitation bamboo border, c.1750, watercolour and body colour, Chinese, with additions, 1920s (originally from the parlour, later the dining room, Hampden House, Buckinghamshire). From the Buckinghamshire County Museum Collections, 1967.262. Photo: Jonathan Taylor, Aniseed PR Ltd.   6 Unknown artist, Thomas Coutts’ Drawing Room, after 1822, watercolour, showing Chinese wallpaper associated with Lord Macartney’s Embassy. Author’s photo. Reproduced by kind permission of Coutts & Co.   7 Wallpaper panel of Indian Prince with attendant, 1760s, etched and hand coloured, stamped ‘PAPER 4’, inscribed (verso) Indian Prince [?] bleu. Museum of London A18591. © Museum of London.   8 Chimney blind (half repeat), etched and hand coloured, 1760s, inscribed (verso) Chimney [?] Ps k/1/pr. Museum of London A18595. © Museum of London.   9 First floor bedchamber (later the Red Chamber) at Clandon Park, Surrey, hung c.1735, with flock wallpaper and border. Areas patched in and border reproduced under the direction of John Fowler, c.1969–70. Author’s photo, 2007. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

xiv  List of plates 10

11 12

13

14 15

16 17 18 19

20

21

22

William Hogarth (1697–1764), The Lady’s Last Stake, 1759, oil on canvas. Support: 36 × 41 1/2 inches (91.44 × 105.41 cm); framed: 47 × 52 3/4 × 2 3/4 inches (119.38 × 133.985 × 6.985 cm). Collection Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York; Gift of Seymour H. Knox, Jr., 1945 (1945:2.1). Photograph by Tom Loonan. Wallpaper, flocked and block printed, c.1770 (originally from the first floor at 26, Soho Square, London). English Heritage ENASC 88082042/2. Author’s photo. Courtesy of English Heritage. John Yenn, R.A. (1750–1821), Design for a Town House: Section, c.1775, pen with black ink, coloured washes and gouache, 62.1 × 98 cm. Given by Mrs Augusta Thackeray, 1865. Photo credit: © Royal Academy of Arts, London; Photographer: Prudence Cuming Associates Limited. Green drawing room at Clandon Park, Surrey, hung in the 1730s with ‘mock flock’ wallpaper, block printed. Paper uncovered under later brocatelle and retouched under the direction of John Fowler, c.1969–70. Author’s photo, 2007. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust. Johann Zoffany (1733–1810), Sir Lawrence Dundas with his Grandson, 1769, oil on canvas, 101.6 × 127 cm. The Zetland Collection. Richard Bentley (1708–1782), Perspective of the Hall & Staircase at Strawberry Hill, pen and ink and watercolour on laid paper, c.1753. Lewis Walpole Library, Farmington, CT, sh-000505. Courtesy of the Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University. Stucco wallpaper with scenes of ruins, block printed, c.1770 (originally from the hall [?], 10–12 Wallbridge, Stroud, Gloucestershire). Museum in the Park, Stroud STGCM 1970.175. © Museum in the Park, Stroud. Upper stair, Boston Manor House, Middlesex, hung with landscape paper imitating classical remains, block printed, 1760s or 1780s, attributed to Isherwood’s. Author’s photo. Unknown artist, Portrait of John Middleton and his Family, oil on canvas, c.1795–97, 88.2 × 110.5 cm. Museum of London 001562. © Museum of London. Jane Maxwell Fordyce (fl.1796), Portrait of Elizabeth Anne Fordyce (painting watercolour landscapes) in the Little Sitting Room at Putney Hill, 1796, watercolour with pen and ink on paper, 30.5 × 22.9 cm. Private Collection/@Charles Plante Fine Arts/Bridgeman Images. Robert Adam (1728–92) detail from Sketch of a passage for Her Grace the Duchess of Bolton, to direct Mr Middleton in the disposition of the papers, pen and ink with watercolour, c.1770. Sir John Soane’s Museum, Adam Drawings vol.50/5. ©Sir John Soane’s Museum, London. Photo: Ardon Bar-Hama. Round drawing room, Moccas Court, Herefordshire, hung c.1790 with arabesque panels, over-doors and rose borders, block printed, French, attributed to Réveillon, interspersed with painted pilasters. Author’s photo. Robert Adam (1728–92), detail of design for a pilaster for Moccas Court, c.1781, pencil, pen and ink with watercolour. Herefordshire Archives, Moccas papers AL 28/3. Author’s photo. Reproduced by courtesy of Herefordshire Archive Service.

List of plates xv 23

24

25

Ballroom, Frogner Manor, Oslo, decorated c.1792 with arabesques, pilasters and imitation moiré panels with floral borders, block printed, with frame marks datable to 1793, and painted additions. Photo: Rune Aakvik/ Oslo Museum. Palladian Room, Clandon Park, Surrey, hung after 1778, with arabesque wallpaper, Les Deux Pigeons, colour print from wood blocks with flock and mica, French, attributed to Réveillon. Rehung in the same room under the direction of John Fowler during the winter of 1968–69. Author’s photo, 2007. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust. Fragment of wallpaper, hung after 1775, painted, Chinese (originally from the Octagon Room, Winnington Hall, Cheshire). Cheshire Archives & Local Studies, DIC/BM/15/77. Reproduced with the permission of Cheshire Archives & Local Studies and the owner/depositor to whom copyright is reserved.

Preface

In the course of researching this book and the PhD which preceded it over the past twelve years I have prayed for sunny days in an English winter, blithely followed instructions such as ‘drive through the woods for three miles’ and replaced my torch with a mobile phone’s light. I have peered into attics, cupboards and behind dadoes and on one occasion been presented with a Chinese border paper found behind a filing cabinet. None of these encounters would have been possible without the archivists, curators, house managers and owners who have facilitated my access to spaces and documents relating to wallpapers. I am immensely grateful to: Stephen Astley (formerly of the Soane Museum); Alexia Clark (Stroud District Museum Service); Ciara Canning and Debbie Barnes (Colchester & Ipswich Museums); Sophie Cummings (Lydiard Park); Tracey Earl (Coutts & Co); Elise Edwards and Catherine Grigg (Wycombe Museums); Amy Frost (Bath Preservation Trust); Sally Goodsir (Royal Collection Trust); Alice Halden, Fiona Sheridan, Rachel Lloyd and Mark Hartwell (Stafford Borough Council); Emma Hardy (The Geffrye Museum); Jo Johnston (Bowood Archives); Carole Jones (The Kelmarsh Trust); Elinor Ling (The Fitzwilliam Museum); Alexandra MacCulloch (formerly of Buckinghamshire County Museum, now with Historic Royal Palaces); Tiia Marcos; Janet McNamara (Boston Manor House); Eloise Morton (River & Rowing Museum, Henley-on-Thames); Tim Oliver; Laura Houliston, Jerzy KierkućBieliński, Charlie Newman and Cathy Power (English Heritage); Lee Prosser (Historic Royal Palaces); Lars Roede (Oslo Museum); Fiona Salvesen-Murrell (Paxton House); Lindsay Speight (Watford Museums); Jill Tovey (Croome Court); and to the staff of the Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford; Catalyst Science Discovery Centre, Widnes; and Wotton-under-Edge Heritage Centre. At the V&A special thanks are due to the Word and Image Department, in particular to the Print Room staff, to Gill Saunders, and to Frances Rakine who patiently responded to my queries and also conducted me around Blythe House. In the Furniture, Textiles and Fashion Department I am grateful to Lizzie Bisley (and previously to James Yorke) who assisted me in consulting the Department’s archive. My site visits to National Trust properties have also benefited from the assistance of Trust staff, in particular Victoria Moulton (formerly of Felbrigg Hall); David Moore (Dunster Castle); Diana Shaw (Blicking Hall); Tracy Clement (Shugborough) and Helen Webb (Clandon Park). Nino Strachey, Sophie Chessum and the late Sue Baumbach were all generous in discussing schemes connected with properties in their care. In addition I am grateful to the following for their invaluable assistance in tracing eighteenth-century schemes and references: Katie Arber; Anna Chalcroft; Helen Clifford; David Conradsen; Sue Donnelly; Jane Eade; Michael Garton; Sam Hearn; Miles Hobart-Hampden; Gareth Hughes; Kevin Rogers; Lindsay Speight and Gillian Williamson.

Preface xvii My aim in this book, however, has not just been to document sites and the papers hung there, important as that task is, but also dig down into the archives to tell the story of how wallpaper became a key eighteenth-century decorative material and consumer desirable. It is archives around the country which have served up the meat of the daily encounters between consumers and tradesmen over wallpaper and I remain indebted to all the archive staff who have enabled me to delve into the nitty gritty of costs, colours and damp, including the county archives in Buckinghamshire, Cheshire, Essex, Gloucestershire, Gwent, Herefordshire, Warwickshire, Worcestershire and Wiltshire and the London Metropolitan Archives. Thanks to Jon Stobart’s advice, the Shakespeare Birthplace Archive also shed new light on work at Stoneleigh. In the Bodleian Library I have benefited from the efforts made on my behalf by Colin Harris, Superintendent, Special Collections Reading Rooms, and Julie-Anne Lambert, Librarian of the John Johnson Collection, both of whom have undertaken extensive searches to locate trade cards and papers for me. I am grateful to the Trustees of the Bowood Collection for permission to quote from papers in the Bowood Archive. I am also grateful to John Fisher and Michael Melia of the Guildhall Library, City of London, for access to their library’s trade card collection, and to Beverley Cook and Julia Hoffbrand of the Museum of London for their help at an early stage of my research in locating both trade cards and papers. The staff of the Prints & Drawings Study Room at the British Museum also assisted me in my study of the Banks and Heal trade card collections. Throughout these researches I have been widely welcomed as ‘The Wallpaper Lady’. I am glad to say that since I started work on this book, wallpaper’s study has begun to emerge as part of the material turn and there are now more wallpaper women (and yes, men too). My thanks go firstly to the small community of specialists in the UK who have flown the flag for wallpaper studies since the 1980s, and here I would particularly like to record my debt to Andrew Bush (formerly of The National Trust), the late Treve Rosoman, and Christine Woods (formerly of The Whitworth Art Gallery, University of Manchester). Special thanks are also due to Abby Cronin, a long-term member of the Wallpaper History Society, both for her encouragement and for generously giving me her copy of the late Jean Hamilton’s revision of Charles Oman’s 1929 catalogue of the V&A’s wallpapers published in 1982. Gaining the input of others on my ideas has been a crucial stage in this book’s gestation, and I am grateful for opportunities to share my findings with audiences at The Architectural Association, the universities of Birmingham, Oxford and at Van Mildert College, Durham, as well as at conferences and seminars held by the Centre for Studies of Home, the Chinese Wallpaper study group, the Design History Society, The Wallpaper History Society, the East India Company at Home project, The Henry Moore Institute and English Heritage. Further afield the centennial conference on wallpaper held at the Nordiska Museet, Stockholm, provided a memorable combination of wallpaper, sunshine and crayfish pie in Canton. What research also needs of course is time, and money. I was fortunate that the Design History Society showed early faith in my subject, awarding me a PhD Bursary in 2005–06 which enabled me to complete much of my early fieldwork, and that the Open University has continued to support both my research and the costs of illustrations for this book. In addition, I am immensely grateful to the Wallpaper History Society for their generous contribution towards the cost of the book’s colour plates. I remain indebted to colleagues past and present at Bucks New University and the Open University, in particular Emma Barker, who, together with Gill Perry, set me on the pathway to this book in my PhD, while Ray Batchelor, Polly Binns, Sue Capener,

xviii Preface Helena Chance, Leah Clark, Peter Elmer, Maddy Sharman, Encarna Trinidad, Greg Votolato, Susie West and Jane Ziar have all encouraged me along the way. Particular thanks are due to Pam Bracewell-Homer, who stepped in at a crucial point to assist me in the final stages of image gathering, and to Yvonne Bartley, who has provided administrative support in this task. My greatest debt, however, is to Professor Elizabeth McKellar who has stood by me throughout the gestation of this book, and much of the PhD that preceded it, offering an irreplaceable combination of wise counsel and insights across the architecture and design of the eighteenth-century. Research is one thing, a book of course quite another. I owe a debt to Margaret Michniewicz, previously commissioning editor at Ashgate, and to this series’ original editor, Michael Yonan, as well as to the anonymous readers for their faith in my subject. Isabella Vitti, my editor at Taylor & Francis, has taken over the baton to steer me through the final years of writing. I am grateful to her, as well as to the copy editor, Maria Whelan, and to Colin Morgan for seeing me through the final stages of production. Friends and family have also encouraged me through years of research and writing. I am grateful to the Womens’ Cultural Weekenders, the Windrush reading group and the Taylor clan, especially to Rachel, Sam and above all my husband Peter who have been my best supporters.

Introduction

In 1998 the architectural historian John Harris recalled a visit made in the early 1950s to Belvedere, a country house in Kent, then virtually derelict: Rain pelted down, and I hurried back into the darkened house. There was an elegant Stuart library, many more Stuart chimney-pieces and rooms with Stuart trim. The real find was upstairs, where a room on the south front was hung with Georgian chinoiserie papers, mounted on canvas and battened to the walls, but defaced by someone who had gone round poking a finger in as many places as possible.1 Within the decade Belvedere was demolished and with it all traces of this interior. What Harris glimpsed was a scheme devised from the most significant new decorative material of the eighteenth century, wallpaper. To eighteenth-century producers, retailers and consumers, ‘paper hangings’ (as wallpaper was known) was not a derogatory category, but one associated with innovation and modernity. This apparently ephemeral material transformed interiors, at once imitating, and competing with, other materials and spawned a whole new range of skills necessary for its successful making and installation. This meant that by end of the century it was sold across Britain, and hung throughout the home, in town as well as in the country, as well as exported in quantity. This new commodity can also illuminate another aspect of eighteenth-century consumerism; the ways in which commodities came to be seen as desirable, in particular how they were described, selected and acquired, issues which are the focus of this book. Yet the story of wallpaper’s development has never enjoyed the scholarly attention paid to other components of the interior such as textiles and plasterwork, and by the 1950s schemes such as that at Belvedere languished unseen. Why is this the case?

In search of paper hangings: visual and written evidence One reason is that the surviving material evidence for wallpaper has been seen as scant. As the architectural writer John Cornforth (1937–2004) expressed it, the key problem in studying the eighteenth-century interior hinged on the rarity of ‘entities, of complete rooms, apartments and houses’ and what he termed the ‘major distortion that cannot be cured’ of the imbalance of visual evidence between country and London houses, since ‘many fashions must have started in London and spread to the country’.2 These difficulties are especially acute when it comes to wallpaper.

2 Introduction It could be stripped from the wall or simply panelled or pasted over when tastes changed, obliterating material evidence while at the same time accommodating new consumer desires. In 1939 Alan (A.V.) Sugden (b. 1877) wrote the foreword to a centennial reprinting of a lecture on ‘The History of Paperhangings’ delivered by the decorator J.G. Crace (1809–89). In it, Sugden admitted that Crace’s descriptions of ‘old’ wallpapers had been omitted, since all traces of them had since been lost.3 However, wallpaper is not quite the ephemeral, invisible material it might seem; my journeys across Britain have found that much remains, albeit the material effects of those schemes which do survive on the wall have been transformed. Colours have faded, contrasts reduced and schemes bear the marks of later modifications. Many papers are visible as fragments, hidden in hard-to-reach corners, inside cupboards or concealed under later panelling. Where larger sections do survive they are often in areas which have escaped later decoration, such as that on the attic staircase at Boston Manor in Middlesex, remnants of a design which in the eighteenth century spread down all three flights (Plate 17). More often, survivors are those papers which were regarded as worthy of preservation from the start, such as at Saltram in Devon where four rooms are still hung with Chinese papers, silks and paintings, highly valued in the eighteenth century and remaining so today. Even when removed from the wall and preserved in the collections of museums and galleries wallpapers often sit awkwardly between categories, a material no-one is quite sure what to do with once divorced from the built environment. Still others find their way into archives where they lurk unseen in family papers, for example as the covers of account books. Nevertheless, this material evidence can shed light on key issues around eighteenth-century consumerism, especially when combined with textual evidence and with new approaches applied to its study. A second reason why eighteenth-century wallpaper has been understudied is the difficulty of approaching the textual evidence. Makers, retailers and consumers used the term ‘paper hangings’, or ‘hanging paper’. In the early part of the century ‘paper for rooms’ sometimes appears, in order to distinguish paper applied to the wall or ceiling from that intended for lining books or furniture, discussed in Chapter 1. By the end of the century the use of paper was sufficiently well established to be included in dictionary definitions, such as that of John Ash in 1795, which defines the verb ‘paper’ as ‘To adorn with paper, to furnish with paper hangings’ and ‘papering’ as ‘Hanging with paper’.4 Moreover, ‘paper hangings’ was an evolving category which included decorations produced by printing, stencilling, painting and flocking as well as papier mâché. As the century progressed, ‘paper’ was increasingly used either on its own or as part of specialist terminology such as ‘stucco paper’, a category discussed in Chapter 5. Wallpapers also frequently gave their names to rooms, often by their colour; for example the Red Chamber, hung with crimson flock at Clandon Park in Surrey, discussed in Chapter 4. Specialist nomenclature was also used, such as an ‘India paper [Chinese wallpaper] room’, suggesting that wallpaper was both easily recognisable and a useful shorthand for identifying spaces in place of other, more readily moveable, commodities. However, wallpaper was rarely recorded alongside moveable goods in inventories since it was seen as part of the fabric of the room, the exception being occasional references to ‘India paper’, either on the wall or in storage. Survival is also an issue when it comes to written evidence. No pattern books exist until the very end of the century, and few manufacturers’ records survive, meaning collections of trade cards have assumed prominence. I have widened this scope, interrogating a much wider range of cards

Introduction 3 than have been looked at hitherto, and I do so through the lens of new approaches.5 I have also drawn on the texts of advertisements and newspaper notices, sampled for the period 1720–90, to illuminate the messages of trade cards. To counterbalance their rhetorical claims I have consulted bills in museums and archives across Britain which reveal what trade cards rarely mention: actual quantities ordered, their price and sometimes the specific rooms that were decorated. This has allowed me to make judgements on paper quality, the cost of hanging, and a scheme’s complexity and scale. In addition, I have sought to balance emphasis on the manufacturer’s or retailer’s viewpoint by turning to consumers’ correspondence and a small sample of fictional accounts. When it comes to consumers’ correspondence about wallpaper, remarks on the business of supply, cost and hanging outweigh comments on pattern, colour and visual effects. One exception, however, was the account written in 1741 by the poet and patron Frances, Lady Hertford about the decorating projects at her country house, Richings Park in Buckinghamshire:6 I begin to fear that the air of Richings is whimsically infectious; for its former owner (lord Bathurst) had scarcely more projects than my lord and myself find continually springing up in our minds about improvements there. Yesterday I was busy in buying paper, to furnish a little closet in that house, where I spend the greatest part of my time within doors: and, what will seem more strange, bespeaking a paper ceiling for a room which my lord has built in one of the woods. The perfection which the manufacture of that commodity is arrived at, in the last few years, is surprising: the master of the warehouse told me that he is to make some paper at the price of twelve and thirteen shillings a yard, for two different gentlemen. I saw some at four shillings, but contented myself with that of only eleven-pence: which I think is enough to have it very pretty; and I have no idea of paper furniture being rich.7 Hertford’s account encompasses many of the key issues around eighteenth-century wallpaper with which this book is concerned. She described both wallpaper (‘paper furniture’) and papier mâché (‘a paper ceiling’, made with moulded ornaments using off-cuts from the paper making process), newly available commodities with which she was familiar. It was also a material which was rapidly developing and she singled out wallpaper’s ‘perfection’, its ability to match the finish and colours of other wall treatments, such as textiles, plaster or wood. Many of these processes of course combined technical skill with artistic ability, perhaps especially so when it came to hanging a complete scheme. However, the warehouse owner whom Lady Hertford consulted was valued as much for his ability to supply what was deemed tasteful as goods that embodied ‘perfection’ in making. Lady Hertford also portrayed herself as active consumer rather than passive observer, one who both made and executed decisions, not only for herself but on her husband’s behalf, too. However, this simple passage belies the evidence in this book that an increasingly wide range of consumers hung wallpaper: from female and male aristocrats to the gentry and aspirant merchants, apothecaries and brewers. Another key issue is how wallpaper was acquired, and here Lady Hertford goes to a new type of artisan, the owner of a paper hangings warehouse. This signals that wallpaper had given rise to a new type of trade. However, as I explore in Chapter 2, it also brought opportunities and challenges for other, longer established, trades such as the stationer and cabinet-maker. The account also offers insights into questions about how Lady Hertford made her choice and how much she paid, questions this book

4 Introduction also takes up. Choice involved viewing samples and talking to the warehouse’s owner, acquiring knowledge which enabled her to make her selection and place her order. She also organised the making of a papier mâché ceiling, which would have involved the choice of suitable ornaments. Moreover, her account also sheds light on why these materials were chosen. For the wallpaper, it was a balance of costs and aesthetics in order to achieve a ‘very pretty’ effect, a phrase to which we will return. Choice was also not just about wallpaper in isolation but related to the room where it was to be hung; there is no mention here of dining rooms, drawing rooms or indeed parlours. Rather, the warehouse’s products are to be displayed in her own most private space in the country house, her closet, and on the ceiling of a garden building. Wallpaper was in addition a malleable material; by 1742 Lady Hertford was using paper as a different kind of metaphor, conveying not novelty and fashionability but economy. She reported to her sister that the Duchess of Manchester had rented a house at Englefield Green in Surrey, ‘no bigger than a nutshell’, and ‘furnished all her rooms with paper’.8 Wallpaper thus appears as a material which can shift its meanings from one dwelling to another, from the country house, to garden buildings and smaller rental properties as well as from one consumer to another. And although decisions about decoration could be taken in isolation by a (female) consumer, men and women could also make them together. In the case of the Hertfords, projects were shared between husband and wife, and this shared interest in decoration extended to a joint investment in making. Lady Hertford conjured up the harmonious scene in another letter to her sister: Within doors we amuse ourselves (at the hours we are together) in gilding picture frames, and other small things – this is so much the fashion with us at present, that I believe, if our patience and pockets would hold out, we should gild all the cornices, tables, chairs and stools about the house.9 No foray into embellishing a room’s decoration was then too small, and it was not simply about executing these finishes yourself, but also the opportunity decoration gave to collaborate in making ‘things’ with others – other women as well as husbands – away from the demands of the public life of the country house. These activities could therefore cement both social and marital relations. One writer’s assessment, and one with an elite bias at that, cannot of course encompass the multiple motivations of eighteenth-century consumers, but my study of other correspondence explored in this book conveys the cultural investment made by consumers in this new material. This was not just part of the process of furnishing requests for wallpaper but also a means to exchange knowledge of this new material, in the process shaping the taste of correspondents. Correspondence reveals not only worries about supply but also admiration, both for skills in hanging and for the achievement of tasteful effects.

Interpretations of eighteenth-century wallpaper Issues of survival and shortfalls in evidence are only part of the explanation of why wallpaper as a component of eighteenth-century interiors alongside other material objects has been understudied. Another is the way in which the narrative of wallpaper has been commandeered by scholars. Perhaps ironically, early articles

Introduction 5 devoted to aspects of eighteenth-century ‘paper furniture’ were written primarily by furniture historians, such as McIver Percival and Oliver Brackett. Their aim was to show readers how to create appropriate settings to display antique or reproduction ‘Chippendale’ or ‘Sheraton’ furniture.10 These studies were rooted in the burgeoning interest in the eighteenth century, for which the standard bearer for interiors was Margaret Jourdain (1876–1951). Jourdain wrote a series of articles in Country Life dedicated to English, Chinese and another, much neglected, category, English wallpapers in the Chinese style.11 Much of Jourdain’s research was driven by her employers’ agenda; the dealer Francis Lenygon (1877–1943) employed her on a retainer and she authored several books and articles published under his name, including one on leather hangings in the Art Journal, at that time owned by Lenygon.12 John Harris has described her ‘unsatisfactory’ links to dealers, a link reinforced in her illustration of items from Lenygon’s and others’ stock in her publications, including a flock discovered on the firm’s premises.13 However, as Elizabeth McKellar has shown, Jourdain was also pioneering: she expanded the architectural treatment of the interior to consider wall hangings as well as panelling and painted finishes, developing a less architectonically based approach to the study of the historic interior.14 Jourdain’s interest in wallpaper was also related to her study of textiles, and she was not alone in this. The first book-length study of historic wallpaper was authored in 1923 by Phyllis Ackerman (1893–1977), an American who established a reputation for her books on tapestry and textiles.15 Historic wallpaper offered an opportunity for Ackermann and other women to carve out new areas of research, none more so than the leading American interior designer, Nancy McClelland (1877–1959).16 McClelland’s own ambitious survey, published in 1924, included French, American and British examples and was published simultaneously in Philadelphia and London.17 Hers was one of the earliest studies to employ original documents; for example making use of eighteenth-century American newspapers. McClelland also set about comparing papers, notably the series of wallpapers hung in the Van Rensellaer manor house in Albany, New York state, with those then at Harrington House in Gloucestershire, a scheme on which I shed fresh light in Chapter 5 (Figure 5.8). It was not just historians of furniture and textiles who became interested in wallpaper, there was also commercial interest from manufacturers. In 1926 Country Life’s correspondent, H. Avray Tipping, commented that to date ‘it is curious that native wallpapers have found no native historian’.18 Avray Tipping was reviewing A History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914 by A.V. Sugden and J.L. Edmondson, published in that year. This narrative was rooted neither in furniture studies nor in textiles, but in Sugden’s own connections with the wallpaper industry as chair of the Wallpaper Manufacturers Ltd (WPM), who took up his suggestion for the book.19 Dedicated to Metford Warner (c.1843–1930), founder of Jeffrey & Co, at the time the leading ‘art’ wallpaper manufacturer in Britain, it is not surprising that technology loomed large over consumer agency in this history. Its chapters on the eighteenth century argued that circumstances had combined for ‘wallpaper to take its assured place in domestic interior decoration’, and built a narrative of the industry based on technological progress and manufacturing growth centred on London.20 Christine Woods has argued that this emphasis on economic and technical success rooted in craft skills was in part a response to the desire of many members of the WPM, who

6 Introduction were manufacturers of hand-made wallpapers and wished to disassociate themselves from large scale machine production.21 However, it was also an approach based on ‘famous pioneers’ and equally famous consumers, including Horace Walpole (1717– 97), reflecting a desire to establish a methodology based around named individuals. The unchallenged status of Sugden and Edmondson’s history meant that more than thirty years later when the bibliography on interior decoration was put together for English Historical Documents’ volume on the eighteenth century, theirs was the only source listed for wallpaper.22 These publications, by Ackerman, McClelland and by Sugden and Edmondson did, however, stimulate interest in the subject and in the late 1920s and 1930s more specialist articles on different types of eighteenth-century wallpaper in Britain appeared: Old Furniture published a series entitled ‘Old Wall-papers in England’ by Charles Oman of the V&A, who went on to publish the first catalogue of the museum’s collection.23 Enthusiasm for chinoiserie in 1920s and 1930s design fed into demand for knowledge of Chinese wallpapers in particular.24 The stress here was less on ‘famous pioneers’ than on the Chinese papers’ supposedly unique qualities and their superiority to home produced products: again, a position which informed later wallpaper studies. Sugden and Edmondson’s model of technical achievement and named pioneers was in turn taken up E.A. (Eric) Entwisle (1900–98). Entwisle, who had probably undertaken much of the research for the 1926 History, was also part of the WPM, of whose London offices he became Director in 1948. He produced a steady stream of books and articles on wallpaper over some fifty years.25 His survey of the field, The Book of Wallpaper: A History and An Appreciation, first published in 1944, had a foreword by Sacheverell Sitwell (1897–1988), and included a brief chapter on ‘Chinese Wallpapers and English Imitations’, followed by two chapters on ‘London Paperhanging Makers’ covering the period from 1690 to 1800.26 Although the emphasis was once again on making, Entwisle also covered neglected aspects of decoration including papier mâché, painted papers and print rooms, although there was no attempt to analyse individual schemes and probe consumer motivations.

‘Antipodes of design’ For Sugden and Edmondson the eighteenth century represented the period when wallpaper took its ‘assured place in domestic interior decoration’. However, wallpaper has occupied an awkward place in between a group of divisions upon which scholarship on the interior traditionally builds its arguments. To understand how wallpaper was categorised in the eighteenth century, and more recently, I want to explore these divisions around architecture and decoration, and between mechanical and fine art and decorative art and design. The division between architecture and what is often called interior decoration is the one most frequently employed in approaching wallpaper, with wallpaper often categorised as interior decoration. However, interior decoration is a term which had little resonance in the eighteenth century; it has associations with what Charles Rice has called calls ‘staginess’, it is seen as distinct from architectural construction and its first use (by the designer Thomas Hope) was not until 1807. Rice has further argued that the interior cannot be divorced from architecture, since it is articulated through decoration, the literal covering of the inside of an architectural ‘shell’ with the soft ‘stuff’ of furnishing.27 David Brett has also examined how these divisions are embodied

Introduction 7 in the writings of the painter Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–92). Brett points out that, for Reynolds, ideal beauty was ‘the capstone of an edifice’ which extended downwards from the higher arts of painting, sculpture and architecture through the lesser arts to the trades of the pattern drawer and wood carver, and, finally, mere ‘manufactures’. Quality is then transmitted down from the artist and architect into everyday manufacture and crafts. Brett also argues that, for Reynolds, the details of a building, a sculpture or a painting are secondary to the main ideal forms, so if detail is equated with decoration then its status is reduced, along with that of those who design or make that decoration.28 Yet architectural decoration is also a problematic term, since it has often been considered in isolation from the spaces of which it forms an intrinsic part, a practice which has its origins in the categorisation of buildings by their material components, reinforced by the modernist tendency to separate exterior and interior. In part this is because, as McKellar has pointed out, ‘the study of interiors has remained, for the most part, awkwardly situated between architectural historians on the one hand and furniture historians on the other’.29 However, eighteenth-century wallpaper cannot easily be divorced from architecture. Architectural elements including a room’s aspect, scale and place in the hierarchy of spaces within a building formed a key part of decisions about its choice. Its hanging needed to successfully accommodate architectural features, and in the eighteenth century that meant not just door- and window-cases but also chimneypieces, and sometimes looking glasses and pictures too. Stacey Sloboda has also noted that wallpaper is one of a group of mobile objects which are literally embedded into the structure of the country house.30 Wallpaper was fused to the architectural shell, on the boundary between architecture and interior decoration, and in the eighteenth-century home it not only provided colour (and usually pattern too) but could cover over cracks and evidence of earlier schemes. Like plasterwork, which, as Conor Lucey has argued in his study of its use in the early modern interior, is ‘Located somewhat uneasily between the liberal and mechanical arts’, so wallpaper has also fallen between mechanical and high art.31 At the same time, this book places wallpaper as an integral part of a system of decoration composed of plasterwork, paint and other finishes. The link between the eighteenth century’s growing interest in the mechanical arts and the expansion in the social and economic role of manufactured goods meant that practitioners and critics alike also struggled to comprehend the artistic nature of manufactured products, recognising the lack of suitable definitions for artistic activities outside the fine art realm. Applied or ‘decorative arts’ has long been used as a shorthand for art historians to distinguish manufactured items from the high arts of painting, sculpture and architecture. In 2004 Cornforth wrote that ‘I have become increasingly unhappy about the way we tend to approach interior design, decoration and the decorative arts’; the problem, as he saw it, was that art history had concentrated on the history of style in painting and sculpture and to a slightly lesser extent in architecture, and the decorative arts had been regarded as ‘second class in the ladder of studies and still largely ignored’.32 As Michael Yonan expresses it, ‘The artcraft hierarchy places painting and monumental sculpture at the apex of art-historical classification, with other sorts of creations viewed as less intrinsically meaningful’.33 Wallpaper has frequently been seen as an ephemeral object, one which lacked the permanence attributed to high art. It has also been categorised as a decorative art rather than an aspect of design. The nature of the term ‘decorative’ arts has also been probed

8 Introduction by Katie Scott in relation to the analysis of objects, especially those valued for their decorative rather than functional qualities. She argues that: ‘Decorative’ arts are arts produced in the artisanal, that is to say pre-industrial conditions, and they have been positioned in modern historiography at the antipodes of design. Design is something applied to objects; it manifests a division of labour in its meaning: decorative arts are by contrast, objects to which the principles of refined manufacture and complex aesthetic elaboration are semantically intrinsic.34 These divisions are especially problematic in relation to eighteenth-century wallpaper. Techniques such as hand brushing a ground colour prior to applying pattern by hand-printing, stencilling or painting appear to us today as lengthy and highly specialised, the preserve of pre-industrial printing and the period before the introduction of the continuous paper roll and machine colour printing in the 1830s. Principles of ‘refined manufacture’ and ‘complex aesthetic elaboration’ are also crucial in tasks such as registering blocks and drawing patterns. Yet eighteenth-century wallpaper was first and foremost a designed object. It did, as Scott puts it, demonstrate ‘a division of labour in its meaning’, since different artisans made decisions about design, cut blocks, mixed and applied colour, and finally sold and hung wallpaper. As a two-dimensional material wallpaper shared many features with textiles. However, it shared design sources with three-dimensional finishes so had a close relationship to other designed objects. Wallpaper was also part of a lexicon of objects which at once could not be divorced from the wall, yet at the same time interacted with other objects in the room. It could complement or, more unusually, contrast with other objects’ colour, texture or pattern but, as we shall see, it was not just a backdrop but could set the decorative agenda. In addition, the encounter with wallpaper cannot be divorced from the materials which are so integral a part of its visual effects including paint, flock and other finishes. Glenn Adamson has highlighted the importance of the notion of materiality in relation to craft, since ‘craft always entails an encounter with the properties of a specific material . . . or more than one material in combination’.35 Nevertheless, as Yonan has again pointed out, materiality has rarely been formulated as an essential component of interpretation since art history, influenced by the ideas of Wölfflin, has persistently privileged the visual aspects of art over the material rather than examining how they operate in tandem.36 Since wallpaper’s visual effects are key to its choice, it offers particular opportunities to examine how its materials qualities – not only colour, decoration but also hanging – worked to produce effects that were deemed desirable.

Recent approaches to wallpaper history Few studies of wallpaper since the 1970s have engaged with these questions around the material-culture turn. In part this is because wallpaper studies have been largely confined either to museums or heritage bodies, or have formed part of the growing science of paper conservation. One result has been a shift to focus on the documentation of collections, resulting in more accessible information. A number of catalogues have been generated by the Whitworth Art Gallery, part of the University of Manchester

Introduction 9 whose extensive collection’s strengths lie in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.37 In 1982 Jean Hamilton revised and expanded Oman’s 1929 catalogue of the V&A’s collection, organised by place of manufacture (Chinese, English, French etc) and within these divisions by date.38 Although an invaluable source for the collection, these divisions meant that a paper’s context, for example as part of series of papers from a single site, was much more difficult to reconstruct. It was also in the 1980s that the question of uniting wallpaper, archives and buildings began to be explored. Pioneering work carried out at Temple Newsam outside Leeds, under Anthony Wells-Cole, argued for the place of wallpaper in the study of the historic house; an important contribution to preserve, document and conserve wallpaper samples was made by a 1983 exhibition held there and the accompanying catalogue.39 What was so significant about WellsCole’s approach was that individual samples from known houses (from merchants’ to aristocrats’) were documented, recording not only their manufacturing techniques, but also, where possible, details including the pattern size, repeat and the dimensions and aspect of the room in which it was hung alongside details of the hang. This information was combined with archival research to reconstruct the papers’ contexts. A similar model was applied by Treve Rosoman (1948–2017) to the study of metropolitan homes in London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840, the catalogue of an exhibition organised by English Heritage at the RIBA in 1992, although room size and aspect were not part of the study.40 Enthusiasm for historic wallpapers in the 1980s, explored further in the Epilogue of this book, also resulted in the founding of the UK-based Wallpaper History Society, whose Review has provided a much-needed forum for the publication of research by historians, heritage professionals and conservators. There remains, however, no baseline of information. There is no dictionary of the industry such as exists, for example, for furniture historians, although the Dictionary of English Furniture Makers, published in 1986, included firms who made and sold paper hangings alongside other goods. However, Rosoman’s catalogue did include a list compiled from directory and other sources of wallpaper tradesmen in the capital from c.1690–1840.41 This was the first time that an attempt was made to document the scale of the industry.42 In addition in 2014 the National Trust produced a catalogue of the Chinese wallpaper in its properties which documented twenty-four sites with schemes composed of Chinese wallpaper, and included a map of a further 149 sites which had Chinese wallpapered interiors.43 However, the sites of other categories of wallpaper, and indeed its scope in museum collections and archives, remains undocumented. My appendices are therefore a step along the road in this task. When wallpaper was included in wider surveys of the furnishing and decoration of interiors from the 1980s onwards, more often than not it received less detailed study than other wall finishes, regardless of whether quite grand or more modest interiors were being discussed.44 The focus, as with studies of the eighteenth century in general, has also been on the domestic. Studies of the hanging of wallpaper in public and semi-public buildings, from inns to college rooms and coffee houses, are therefore a neglected area. Publications of views of interiors which do make reference to wall treatments rarely refer to wallpaper in the captions, perhaps due to the very absence of scholarship required to distinguish it from other wall finishes.45 There are exceptions to this, beginning with the work of Cornforth and the interior decorator John Fowler (1907–77) who collaborated to produce English Decoration in the Eighteenth Century, published in 1974.46 For wallpaper, this brought together eighteenth-century

10 Introduction descriptions of its use with Fowler’s studies of colour and finish on the wall, gleaned from paint scrapes and discoveries in country house attics. This approach, although far from archaeological, proved highly influential in what Peter Mandler has called Fowler’s ‘adaptation’ of eighteenth-century aristocratic modes at a series of National Trust properties; and equally influential in its stress on the country house.47 Cornforth also contributed to the study of wallpaper in the interior, not only through his books but in articles for Country Life where he was architectural editor from 1966–77 and his wider roles advising the National Trust and government.48 Interest in the historic interior also contributed to the publication of a series of general histories of wallpaper on both sides of the Atlantic from the 1980s onwards. The most significant was The Papered Wall, which maintained an essentially historical framework in a series of essays from international scholars, including Anthony Wells-Cole and Gill Saunders.49 Saunders went on to author the V&A’s Wallpaper in Interior Decoration, the first survey to attempt what she called ‘a more inclusive history of wallpaper’, under the contemporary title ‘Interior Decoration’. It opened with an examination of the wider context which explored a series of general questions including ‘Who Used Wallpaper and Where?’ before moving on to a thematic treatment, based in chronology and largely on examples in the collection of the V&A.50

Coming home: wallpaper and eighteenth-century material culture Although wallpaper studies have remained largely out of step in relation to work undertaken since the 1990s on the material and visual culture of eighteenth-century Britain, historians have begun to interrogate this aspect of material culture. In particular, Amanda Vickery’s work has demonstrated that wallpaper cannot be ignored as an aspect of consumer culture, since it was a key material by which to chart the rise of taste and concerns with propriety.51 Vickery’s focus has been on documentary evidence from right at the end of the century, rather than extant schemes or analysis of patterns, and in this book my aim has been to bring these aspects together against a framework of new approaches to consumer culture, design and the home. The growth in scholarship on chinoiserie as part of an interest in global material culture has also brought a renewed focus on Chinese wallpaper. The story of how Europe and China developed what Yonan and Alden Cavanaugh have called ‘interconnecting patterns of exchange’ in relation to porcelain is applied here in relation to Chinese wallpaper and its English imitations, showing how consumerism was both subject and object.52 I also draw on recent work by Slobada and David Porter in interrogating the perceived link between Chinese wallpaper, female consumers and upper rooms, extending these approaches to the analysis of Chinese papers’ sites in town and in the country and the insights of conservation science.53 Approaches from material culture need, however, to be applied with care; as John Potvin and Alla Myzelev have pointed out ‘Material culture . . . appears as an academic and intellectual disavowal of excess, a means to purify and absolve itself from the purported frivolity and materialism of consumed objects as they collide with notions of beauty and desire’.54 Wallpaper (especially Chinese wallpaper) is a material that is often seen as superficial, but it is these very qualities of superficiality that made it so desirable, so any study needs to take account of this. It is worth noting, too, that studies rooted in the social lives of objects are problematic when it comes to wallpaper. This approach often sees moveable objects such as ceramics as having inherent meanings,

Introduction 11 whereas wallpaper is somewhere in between, not only a designed material which can be read, but one which acquires meaning from its fixed context when integrated in room decoration. On the other hand, a preoccupation with the social lives of objects and images reaffirms the agency of the humans who interact with them, to which study of the motivations of the artisans and consumers who made and hung wallpaper relates. I have also sought to shift the focus forward by applying other new approaches to the study of eighteenth-century wallpaper, in particular aspects of consumption. I consider not only the roles of artisans and architects but their clients, whether merchant, gentry or aristocrat, male or female. The eighteenth-century growth in consumption of goods meant that strategies other than a simple association between luxury goods as the preserve of elites and a drain on economic and commercial life was needed. New forms of semi-luxury goods emerged that were more affordable and satisfied the desire for novelty; luxury became less about status than about fashionable consumption and comfort. Wallpaper was one such commodity; it sat between what contemporaries called ‘necessities’ and luxuries, and, as we will see, offered a means to express gentility and establish boundaries between different groups around a code of polite behaviour.55 A further aspect of work on the eighteenth century that I have applied concerns issues of design, in particular the relationship between import substitutes and the creation of a new consumer culture. This reflected a wider process of what contemporaries labelled ‘imitation’, a term that combined invention with adaptation. Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford’s work on this term has argued that it involved the sharing of commercial knowledge, such as patterns and tools, between makers of luxury and semi-luxury goods, and resulted in the creation of distinctive products adaptable to broader markets.56 Berg has argued persuasively that the production of these reflected a desire both to produce substitutes for imported goods and materials (especially from France and China) and new products: Central to this type of invention was a process of imitation, deploying the design principles, finishes and associations of fine luxury ware and exotic materials across new things, or producing similar goods out of new materials which mimicked the older luxury ware, but were also widely perceived to be quite different products.57 I argue in Chapter 1 that this process of imitation allowed the eighteenth-century consumer to perceive new material goods, such as wallpaper, in terms of existing materials with which they were already familiar. Studies of other imitative trades in Britain have also offered insights, such as Clifford’s work on the Sheffield plate trade. She describes how: The energy spent on inventing both imitative materials and manufacturing processes seems to have been a logical and very practical expression of a culture of copying. Design in the second half of the eighteenth century was in itself a process of imitation, focusing on adaptability and individuality through variety and novelty.58 Just as important as imitation of the ‘correct’ shapes, finishes and patterns was innovation and the introduction of variety and novelty. Imitation and innovation were then two sides of the same coin, both qualities which, as we shall see in Chapter 2, were repeatedly stressed by manufacturers and retailers of wallpapers. New approaches to the study of the interior are also reflected in the evidence I discuss here, particularly beyond the country house paradigm. Charles Saumarez

12 Introduction Smith’s 2000 text, The Rise of Design: Design and the Domestic Interior in Eighteenth-Century England, documented changing attitudes to eighteenth-century interiors, drawing on work from the 1980s onwards by economic, social and cultural historians.59 His study represented a shift in the way the interior was conceptualised, by focusing on a changing history of how it was represented, visually and in the written word, rather than just looking at the materials it comprised.60 Since then, as McKellar has pointed out, new approaches to interiors drawn from eighteenth-century studies have moved away from casting them as ‘other’, which ‘far from representing them as contingent spaces have shown their centrality in creating eighteenth-century culture and identity’.61 Related to this is the need for a more nuanced understanding of the relationship between urban settings and the country. Hannah Greig and Giorgio Riello have described how studies of the decorative arts (and interiors) have remained ‘preoccupied with the isolated, elite country seat’.62 Although study of certain types of wallpaper (notably Chinese wallpaper) has led to a focus on the country house, the prevalence of the country house canon and Mark Girouard’s classic model of the ‘great house’ is challenged here by examining wallpapers from two other types of site.63 Examples of wallpapers hung in urban houses which have been uncovered over the last thirty years, notably by English Heritage in the London region, are discussed in order to correct some of the imbalance identified by Greig and Riello. Decoration assumed a new importance in the newly built (or newly rebuilt) grand town house which was not always required to accommodate the family portrait collection housed in the country, but rather could show off the new world of goods. As Rachel Stewart puts it ‘whereas in the country house the interior was the finish for the building, in the town house the building was simply the container for the interior’.64 McKellar has also pointed out that eighteen new parishes were formed in London between 1660 and 1743, many with large populations the size of a provincial town.65 Reflecting this new concern with the urban and the growing demand for decoration I therefore also examine wallpapers from gentry and tradesmen’s houses in London and its environs, many designed to attract the rental sector. Finally, I look at wallpapers which survive from a number of smaller towns. Although these are much fewer in number, they do enable consideration of Margaret Ponsonby’s arguments that the relationship of provincial to metropolitan taste is not one of simple emulation, but could express a distinct cultural identity.66 A final aspect studied here in relation to wallpaper is the way in which it was used to negotiate tensions around increased differentiation of space, in terms of usage as well as gender. Vickery’s studies, for example, have argued for the importance of social differentiation through material possessions, rather than social emulation, and this model of propriety rather than ‘shew’ seems a far more appropriate model for studying the role of paper hangings in differentiating rooms by usage, although there are exceptions, notably in the case of Chinese wallpaper.67 Her work arguing for the role of men and women in purchasing wallpaper for the home is also applied in considering how newly papered interiors might be perceived.68 Related to these approaches is the issue of the so-called division between ‘private’ and ‘public’ spheres in the domestic interior. Here Vickery also calls into question the arguments put forward by Ann Bermingham and others, who have characterised the domestic space as a site of increasing female confinement and one where ‘commercial wares constructed gender identities and social positions’.69 She dismisses the generalised idea of ‘separate spheres’ on the basis that this rough division between public and

Introduction 13 private is too general to be useful, and by no means unique to the eighteenth century, nor is it one that contemporaries would have comprehended. Furthermore, Vickery goes on to argue that the eighteenth-century house was not In any simple sense a private, domestic sphere. Indeed, the idea that the home was a refuge insulated from the social world is one that would have perplexed the wellestablished in this period.70 Fear of effeminacy is also central to understanding how the new domestic spaces of the eighteenth century were perceived. As Michèle Cohen argues, anxieties about masculinity and the blurring of gender boundaries are played out in the social space, a dangerous space ‘where boundaries of gender and propriety were transgressed in display and ostentation’.71 I therefore probe this blurring in the domestic space, considering how far wallpaper undermined or indeed reinforced ideals of masculinity and politeness, femininity and ‘shew’ and the opportunities ‘neat’ paper hangings offered both sexes to convey propriety and frame polite behaviour.

‘Our new paperhangings’ The book is divided into six chapters which reflect in different ways these new approaches to the study of wallpaper and to the eighteenth century. Chapter 1, ‘“Paper Hangings for Rooms”: the arrival of wallpaper’ begins by situating wallpaper at the start of the long eighteenth century and the design context from which it emerged. The chapter shows how wallpaper was at once allied to, and also challenged, other types of decoration and examines the qualities by which contemporaries defined this new material. Chapter 2, ‘A contested trade’, then sets out a new model of wallpaper’s making, sale and installation, one that seeks to map the different processes, networks and trades involved. Widening the range from ‘famous pioneers’ this chapter uses the evidence of trade cards, bills, advertisements and accounts to construct a new model of the role of artisans and examine how practices satisfied consumers’ so-called needs and wants. The remaining chapters, Chapters 3–6, consider the material evidence for shifts in design, production and reception in relation to wallpaper, taking as case studies extant or recorded schemes. Here I focus not just on the material attributes of wallpaper such as colour, pattern and finish, important though these are, but also on the contexts in which they were hung and through which they acquired meaning. To do this I have brought together actual wallpapers – some tiny fragments, some whole schemes – with archival materials and contemporary sources, from bills to letters, accounts to novels, in order to probe the place of wallpaper in the eighteenth-century interior. Issues of how design itself is perceived and articulated are also central to these chapters, and one of my key themes here is the nature of ‘imitation’ and how this relates to that of innovation. This theme links Chapters 3–6, which, although they each consider specific aspects of the eighteenth century – the perception of luxury, notions of politeness, challenges to high art and fears of French superiority in design – return to how wallpaper does (or does not) negotiate the imitation of colour, pattern and finish. Each chapter focuses on a different group of wallpapers which contemporaries would have recognised; in Chapter 3 India paper and its English imitations, mock India paper; in Chapter 4 flocks and plains and in Chapter 5 a wider range

14 Introduction of ornament imitating three-dimensional finishes: papier mâché, stucco paper and ‘landskip’ (landscape) papers. Finally, Chapter 6 questions notions of the period style through investigating the print room, metallic and stone finishes, ‘compartment’ schemes and taste for the arabesque. This approach is a deliberate attempt to move away from chronological and stylistic divisions, although these are discussed. For early wallpaper historians, with no roll-call of artists, few known producers and still fewer designers to invoke, chronological and stylistic models offered welcome frameworks. This approach has, however, resulted in categorisations which would have meant little to contemporaries. ‘Pillar and arch’ is one such example; it might provide a visual prompt but in the eighteenth-century it was more likely to be described as a stucco paper. Rather, this book unpicks categorisations which were recognised in the eighteenth-century: for example what was meant by Roberts’s paper hanging warehouse on Pall Mall, who offered papier mâché ornaments ‘in the Chineese, French, or Gothic Taste’?72 ‘Taste’ is, however, seen as a slippery term, a focus for fears of demonstrating false (or impolite) taste rather than what was deemed correct. This book therefore reassesses wallpaper’s role in the interior, framing wallpaper in the light of new studies of the eighteenth century to shed light, in particular, on how far its choice was related to a room’s function and visual effects. India and mock India papers and prints are considered together in Chapter 3, ‘Imitation and the crosscultural encounter’, which focuses on wallpaper imported from China and imitations of these manufactured in England, examining how they were hung to negotiate notions of luxury as well as the two-way relationship between Asia and Europe in the design of these goods. I also question the perceived associations between the selection of Chinese wallpaper and ‘upper rooms’, arguing that gendered readings of these papers also need to take account of the role of agency in spaces designed for both male and female use, in town and in the country. In Chapter 4, ‘In search of propriety’, flocks and plain papers are examined, arguing that ‘neat’ carried particular meanings in relation to wallpaper. The question of how far prosperous tradesmen and gentry adopted wallpaper as part of new social interactions is a particular focus of this chapter, which examines how far wallpaper could help to mark out the polite and the impolite. Chapter 5, ‘Challenging the high arts’, examines the role of wallpapers imitating not imported, but home-produced goods, in particular how materials such as stucco, carved wood and painted ornament were imitated in painted and printed wallpapers. What emerges clearly here is the association between stucco paper and architectural patterns for the hall and stair, whose choice is evidenced across social and geographical boundaries in the schemes discussed. This chapter also examines two neglected products; first, the role of papier mâché in promoting Gothic as well as classical decoration, and second the impact of the print room model on the trade. Finally, Chapter 6, ‘Our modern paper hangings’, turns to the end of the century, taking up wider notions of sociability and examining how far schemes were on the one hand rooted in Neo-classism and on the other in the desire for (or fears about) superiority in French design. The book does not end in the eighteenth century, or even at the start of the nineteenth century. Rather, the Epilogue focuses on the reception of eighteenth-century wallpaper in the twentieth century and how the notion of collecting can be applied to this apparently ephemeral material. Focusing in turn on wallpaper’s removal, collection and reproduction the Epilogue opens up discussion of how eighteenth-century wallpaper has been perceived as an authentic object used to evoke an ideal ‘Georgian’ past that never was.

Introduction 15

Notes 1 John Harris, No Voice from the Hall: Early Memories of a Country House Snooper (London: John Murray, 1998), 119. 2 John Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004), 3. 3 A.V. Sugden, The Crace Papers, A Lecture Delivered before the Institute at the PainterStainers Hall (London: Painters Hall, 1924), 3. 4 J. Ash, The New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language (London: 1795), Vol. 2, 51. 5 For example, the Leverhulme-funded collaborative research initiative between the University of Warwick and Waddesdon Manor, see www.waddesdonmanor.org.uk. 6 Bucks Garden Trust, Richings, South Bucks District (Bucks Garden Trust site dossier, 29 March 2016). 7 Frances, Countess of Hertford, to Henrietta Louisa, Countess of Pomfret, 19 February 1741, in Correspondence between Frances, Countess of Hertford (afterwards Duchess of Somerset) and Henrietta Louisa, Countess of Pomfret, Between the Years 1738 and 1741, ed. W. Bingley (London: Richard Phillips, 1805) Vol. 3, 5–6. 8 Frances, Duchess of Hertford, to Henrietta Louisa, Countess of Pomfret, May 1741 in Bingley, Correspondence, Vol. 3, 279–80. 9 Frances, Duchess of Hertford, to Henrietta Louisa, Countess of Pomfret, May 1741, in Bingley, Correspondence, Vol. 3, 219–20. 10 See for example MacIver Percival, ‘The World of Wallpaper: English Wallpaper of the Chippendale Period’ Journal of Decorative Art and British Decorator (July 1925), 231–33, and ‘The World of Wallpaper: Wallpaper of the Sheraton Period’ Journal of Decorative Art and British Decorator (September 1925), 297–300; Oliver Brackett, ‘English Wall-Papers of the Eighteenth Century’ Connoisseur 52 (October 1918), 83–88. 11 Margaret Jourdain, ‘Old English Wallpapers and Wall Hangings: Part I English’ Country Life (29 March 1924), 499–501 and ‘Old English Wallpapers and Wall Hangings: Part II Chinese Wallpapers and Papers in Chinese Style’ Country Life (24 May 1924), 835–37. 12 For example Francis Lenygon, ‘Gilt Leather Rooms’ Art Journal (September 1911), 281–85. 13 John Harris, Moving Rooms: The Trade in Architectural Salvages (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 4. 14 Elizabeth McKellar, ‘Representing the Georgian: Constructing Interiors in Early TwentiethCentury Publications, 1890–1930’ in ‘Eighteenth-Century Interiors – Redesigning the Georgian’, ed. Hannah Greig and Giorgio Riello, special issue Journal of Design History 20, no. 4 (2007), 337–40. 15 Phyllis Ackerman, Wallpaper: Its History, Design and Use (London: Heinemann, 1923). 16 Bridget May, ‘Nancy Vincent McClelland (1877–1959): Professionalizing Interior Decoration in the Early Twentieth Century’ Journal of Design History 21, no. 2 (2008), 59–74. 17 Nancy McClelland, Historic Wall-Papers from their Inception to the Introduction of Machinery (Philadelphia, PA and London: J.B. Lippincott, 1924). 18 H. Avray Tipping, ‘English Wallpapers Old and New’ Country Life (6 March 1926), 344. 19 Sugden was also part of a well-known wallpaper manufacturing dynasty, Lightbown Aspinall. Edmondson was a former journalist with the Manchester Guardian. The WPM was a conglomerate created from the merger of many of the UK’s manufacturing interests in 1899. 20 A.V. Sugden and J.L. Edmondson, A History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914 (London: Batsford, 1925), 41. 21 Christine Woods, ‘“An Object Lesson in a Philistine Age”: The Wallpaper Manfacturers’ Museum and the Formulation of the National Collections’ Journal of Design History 12, no. 2 (1999), 159–60. 22 David Horn and Mary Ransome, eds. English Historical Documents 1714–1783 (London: Routledge, 1957), 519. 23 C.C. Oman, ‘Old Wallpapers in England 2: Early Coloured Papers’ Old Furniture 2 (1927), 168–71 and ‘Old Wallpapers in England 3: Chinese Papers’ Old Furniture 3 (1928), 15–22. 24 C.C. Oman, ‘English Chinoiserie Wallpapers’ Country Life (11 February 1933), 150–51; W. Stewart-Greene, ‘Chinese Wall-Papers’ The Architects’ Journal 61 (6 September 1922),

16 Introduction 303–06; E.A. Entwisle, ‘Chinese Painted Wallpapers’ Connoisseur 93 (June 1934), 367–74. Later articles included Margaret Jourdain, ‘Chinese Paper Hangings’ Country Life (1 October 1948), 684–85. 25 For example E.A. Entwisle, A Literary History of Wallpaper (London: Batsford, 1960) which listed written sources chronologically (though not always accurately). It was based on an extensive bibliography of wallpaper he compiled between 1945 and 1957, MSL/1981/3, V&A, National Art Library. 26 E.A. Entwisle, The Book of Wallpaper: A History and an Appreciation (Bath: Kingsmead Reprints, 1970). 27 Charles Rice, The Emergence of the Interior: Architecture, Modernity, Domesticity (London: Routledge, 2007), 2–3. 28 David Brett, Rethinking Decoration: Pleasure and Ideologies in the Visual Arts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 14–15. 29 McKellar, ‘Representing the Georgian’, 342. 30 Stacey Sloboda, Chinoiserie: Commerce and Critical Ornament in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2014), 85. 31 Conor Lucey, ‘Introduction’ in Decorative Plasterwork in Ireland and Europe: Ornament and the Early Modern Interior, ed. Christine Casey and Conor Lucey (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2012), 29. 32 Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors, Preface. Cornforth also has a significant chapter on chinoiserie which documents a series of schemes employing Chinese paper and prints. 33 Michael Yonan, ‘Toward a Fusion of Art History and Material Culture Studies’ West 86th 18, no. 2 (Fall 2011), 234. 34 Katie Scott, ‘Introduction: Image – Object – Space’, in ‘Between Luxury and the Everyday: The Decorative Arts in Eighteenth-Century France’, ed. Katie Scott and Deborah Cherry, special issue Art History 28, no. 2 (2005), 137. 35 Glenn Adamson, Thinking Through Craft (Oxford: Berg in association with the V&A, 2007), 39. 36 Yonan, ‘Toward a Fusion,’ 238. 37 For example Joanna Banham, A Decorative Art: 19th Century Wallpapers in the Whitworth Art Gallery (Manchester: University of Manchester, The Whitworth Art Gallery, 1985). 38 C.C. Oman, Victoria and Albert Museum, Department of Engraving, Illustration and Design, Catalogue of Wall-Papers (London: Published under the authority of the Board of Education, 1929); C.C. Oman and Jean Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982). 39 Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983). The exhibition was reviewed by Cornforth in ‘Archaeology and Wallpaper’ Country Life (29 January 1984), 218–19. 40 The exhibition was reviewed by Wells-Cole in ‘The Making of a “Considerable Article”’ Wallpaper History Review (1993/94), 33–34. Wells-Cole’s review also debates the role of stencilling. 41 Christopher Gilbert and Geoffrey Beard, eds., Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (Leeds: Furniture History Society, 1986); Treve Rosoman, London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840 (London: English Heritage, 2009), Appendix II. 42 Sugden and Edmondson included a brief list of ‘Other Early London Paper-Stainers’ see History, 86–88; Entwisle listed fourteen paper hanging makers before 1760 (many involved in the trade in leather hangings) in The Book of Wallpaper. 43 Emile de Bruijn, Andrew Bush and Helen Clifford, Catalogue to Chinese Wallpapers in National Trust Houses (Swindon: The National Trust, 2014). 44 For example Geoffrey Beard, Craftsmen and Interior Decoration in England, 1660–1820 (Edinburgh: J. Bartholemew, 1981); Geoffrey Beard, Upholsterers and Interior Furnishing in England 1530–1840 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press in association with the Bard Graduate Center, New York, 1997); James Ayres, Domestic Interiors: The British Tradition 1500–1850 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2003).

Introduction 17 45 For example Peter Thornton, Authentic Décor: The Domestic Interior 1620–1920 (London: Seven Dials, 2000); Charles Saumarez Smith, Eighteenth Century Decoration: Design and the Domestic Interior in England (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1993). 46 John Cornforth and John Fowler, English Decoration in the Eighteenth Century (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1974). 47 Quoted in Margaret Ponsonby, Stories from Home: English Domestic Interiors, 1750–1950, (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 163. On Fowler’s work see the discussion of the Palladio Room at Clandon in Chapter 4. 48 Charlotte Brunskill, Frankie Drummond Charig, Emma Floyd and Jenny Hill, John Cornforth: A Passion for Houses (London: Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2016). 49 Lesley Hoskins, ed., The Papered Wall: The History, Patterns and Techniques of Wallpaper (London: Thames and Hudson, 2005). 50 Quoted in Gill Saunders, Wallpaper in Interior Decoration (London: V&A Publications, 2002), 9. 51 Amanda Vickery, Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2009), Chapter 6: ‘Wallpaper and Taste’. 52 Alden Cavanaugh and Michael E. Yonan, ‘Introduction’ in The Cultural Aesthetics of Eighteenth-Century Porcelain, ed. Alden Cavanagh and Michael E. Yonan (Ashgate, 2010), 6. 53 For example Stacey Sloboda, Chinoiserie. 54 John Potvin and Alla Myzeler, ‘Introduction: The Material of Visual Cultures’ in Material Cultures, 1740–1920: The Meanings and Pleasures of Collecting, ed. John Potvin and Alla Myzeler (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 9. 55 See John E. Crowley, The Invention of Comfort: Sensibilities & Design in Early Modern Britain & Early America (Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press, 2001), Chapter 5. 56 Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford, ‘Introduction’ in Consumers and Luxury: Consumer Culture in Europe 1650–1850, ed. Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford Consumers and Luxury (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), 11. 57 Maxine Berg ‘New Commodities: Luxuries and their Consumers in Eighteenth-Century England’ in Berg and Clifford, Consumers and Luxury, 77. 58 Helen Clifford, ‘Concepts of Invention, Identity and Imitation in the London Metal-Working trades, 1750–1800’ in ‘Eighteenth-Century Markets and Manufacturers in England and France’ ed. Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 12, no. 3 (1999), 250. 59 Charles Saumarez Smith, The Rise of Design: Design and the Domestic Interior in EighteenthCentury England (London: Pimlico, 2000). The text was from his earlier illustrated work, Eighteenth-Century Decoration. 60 Hannah Greig and Giorgio Riello, ‘Introduction’ in “Eighteenth-Century InteriorsRedesigning the Georgian’ ed. Hannah Greig and Giorgio Riello, special issue Journal of Design History 20, no. 4 (2007), 280. 61 McKellar, ‘Representing the Georgian’, 342. 62 Greig and Riello, ‘Introduction’, 279. 63 Mark Girouard, Life in the English Country House: A Social and Architectural History (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1980). 64 Rachel Stewart, The Town House in Georgian London (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008), 188. 65 Elizabeth McKellar, Landscapes of London: The City, the Country and the Suburbs, 1660– 1840 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2013), 7. 66 Ponsonby, Stories from Home, 23–24. 67 Amanda Vickery, The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1998), 174–80. 68 Vickery, Behind Closed Doors, Chapter 6. 69 Ann Bermingham, ‘Elegant Females and Gentleman Connoisseurs: The Commerce in Culture and Self-Image in Eighteenth-Century England’ in The Consumption of Culture 1600–1800: Image, Object, Text, ed. Ann Bermingham and John Brewer (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), 509.

18 Introduction 0 Vickery, The Gentleman’s Daughter, 9. 7 71 Michèle Cohen, Fashioning Masculinity: National Identity and Language in the Eighteenth Century (London and New York: Routledge, 1996), 74. 72 Clare Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations in 18th Century Britain’ in New Discoveries, New Research: Papers from the International Wallpaper Conference at the Nordiska Museet Stockholm, 2007, ed. Elisabet Stavelow-Hidemark (Stockholm: The Nordiska Museet, 2009), fig. 2.

1 ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ The arrival of wallpaper

By the 1750s ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ were established on the walls of British houses. Yet defining this new material’s qualities was a challenge for tradesmen and consumers alike. This chapter therefore explores how paper hangings were codified in relation to other desirable interior finishes in terms not only of imitation and cost, but other practical factors too such as durability, and wider trends in design. It was not just imitation, but invention, that could bring commercial success, and here I show how wallpaper provides an example of how new products were created. The chapter examines wallpapers imitating materials such as wainscot, japanning, leather and textiles. It ends by looking at the evidence for the impact of contemporary design discourse on this new material. Much of the evidence discussed in this chapter comes from advertisements, bills and, in particular, trade cards. Michael Snodin opened up this area of research in a 1986 essay, demonstrating phases in the design of the English Rococo trade card and its links to print culture, claiming that the vast majority were designed and engraved by professional engravers.1 However, Scott has also mounted a persuasive argument in relation to the eighteenth-century French card suggesting that, contrary to Snodin’s position, the designer did have a close relationship with the tradesman or merchant ‘whose wares he was helping to sell’ and that this was especially the case in paper selling and printmaking.2 She has pointed out that ‘pictures’ furnished as cards’ models were tradesmen’s signs, and that, over time, the sign or physical object on the card became less important to its semantic function, becoming reduced to the status of ornament, and eclipsed by the written text. Second, she argues that trade cards functioned less as advertisements for an unknown future purchase, than a record of a past purchase, drawing on evidence that many designs are also found on bill heads and receipts.3 My study of paper hangings’ cards evidences similar developments, where text eclipses (actual) signs, and designs are repeated on bills, suggesting Scott’s model has currency here too and that study of cards can reveal tradesmen’s intentions.

A new commodity: from concealment to the wall Hanging paper on the wall was a new idea in the late seventeenth century. Paper’s predecessors were either blank, carved or painted wood panelling (wainscot); leather hangings; woven, printed or painted textile hangings or painted finishes. Early wallpaper designs were not intended exclusively for use on the wall, but for far less visible locations, such as lining cased furniture, chests and boxes. These either housed paper

20  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’

Figure 1.1  Lining paper from charter or deed box, Corpus Christi College, Oxford, late seventeenth century, printed in black ink, English.

objects, particularly deeds, or clothing: protection of ruffs from dust has been suggested as one reason for lining chests with paper. These papers have therefore been called ‘lining papers’, and it has been argued that where patterns are formed from a single sheet they were intended for use inside other objects, rather than on the wall as decoration.4 At least one formal floral design, based on the border of a printed cotton, was evidently printed or at least retailed by a trunk-maker, since it was lettered not only with his trade but also with his name (Roger Hudson) and city (York).5 There was, however, cross-over in these two functions. For example, a paper used to line charter boxes such as that from Corpus Christi College, Oxford (Figure 1.1), has also been found on the wall of a closet.6 The design suggests well developed skills in both pattern drawing and block cutting in the treatment of petals and foliage which are either solidly printed in ink, cross-hatched or printed with a trelliswork pattern recalling lace, reflecting paper’s imitative qualities even at this early date. The printing is also crisp, and the design shows the skills that paper hangers would need on the wall, since the pattern is carefully matched between sheets inside the box. However, the question remains of why papers with these designs were used to line boxes. Certainly the bold single sheet designs would suit smaller objects, their patterns enjoyed either by an individual or a small group, perhaps as part of the uncovering of items of adornment or the unrolling of documents. Although a few, mainly heraldic, patterns have been found in grander homes, when wallpapers moved from concealment to visibility on the wall they were more frequently hung in merchants’ houses, especially in the towns which clustered around the edge of London such as Watford and Epsom, or port towns along the East Anglian coast. This trend, of merchants as early adopters of new decorative tastes in wallpaper, continued throughout the eighteenth century. However, as early as the 1680s wallpapers were also in limited use in closets in some aristocratic homes, suggesting the decoration of this room was an entry point for wallpaper in aristocratic as well as merchants’ homes. These single sheet designs include a number printed with motifs of flowers and fruit which have their origins in black silk embroidery on a linen ground. Indeed, it is possible that the one does not imitate the other but that they share a common source, or even that papers provided patterns for embroiderers, since when the pattern was printed on paper it was neither enlarged nor reduced in scale.7

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 21

Figure 1.2  Wallpaper imitating tapestry, associated with Aldford House, Park Lane, London, late seventeenth century, stencilled in yellow, red and green over black ink printing, English.

Paper might be able to offer pattern, but colour was another matter. Early papers could be stencilled in colours, but the range of tones was limited (blue, orange, pink and green have all been recorded) and the colours were transparent, so lacked both depth and opacity. There were also issues with registering the print, since the black outlines did not always coincide with the coloured area beneath. This was the case in another paper that spans the boundary between concealed lining and decoration on the wall. The so-called ‘Aldford House’ pattern stencilled in yellow, red and green consists of figurative scenes set in landscapes peopled by animals, buildings and formal gardens, all surrounded by a border (Figure 1.2). It is intended to imitate tapestry, specifically French papiers de tapisseries, and is known to have been pasted on the wall (at The Shrubbery, Epsom) as well as lining chests and deed boxes including a chest dated 1735 at Dunham Massey, Cheshire.8 Figurative sheets, then, were also part of wallpaper’s library of images from the first. However, in the first half of the eighteenth century, these single-sheet prints were superseded by more ambitious productions. Technical and manufacturing innovations are often cited as the key issue in wallpaper’s expansion, and did result in a much greater range of patterns, colours and finishes being made available. Once single sheets were joined to form a length or piece 12 yards long and around 22 inches wide (a measure also derived from textiles) more ambitious, large scale patterns which could

22  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ repeat across more than one length could be produced. Some tradesmen still hedged their bets; the stationer George Minnikin of Aldersgate advertised on his trade card of c.1680 that he sold paper hangings ‘both in Sheets and in Yards’, suggesting that at this early date there was still demand for both measures.9 Study of surviving examples suggests that around 1720 successful stencilling with opaque, rather than transparent, colours and block printing of outlines in colour rather than black alone appeared. The ability to print over stencilling with wood blocks in distemper colours, rather than just as black outlines, is also documented from c.1720, resulting in a wider range of more opaque colours becoming available. However, stencilling did not disappear, but could be used to enhance the depth of colour, for example beneath a layer of flock from around 1740. It also continued to be used in stripes, checks and florals. Andrew Bush’s study of a group of striped and checked designs derived from textiles has shown that stencilling continued into the third quarter of the century on ungrounded (i.e. uncoloured) paper, the pattern being produced purely by stencilling or relief printing of the stripes or checks. This reduced not only the need for specialist equipment but for long drying times, too.10 Given that colour played such a crucial role in the success of papers, it is surprising that it is rarely mentioned by early tradesmen, but this is perhaps because, as will be discussed below, it was enough to simply name the material imitated. Where it is mentioned early tradesmen often associated it with durability; according to Abraham Price (c.1690–c.1750), the ambitious owner of the Blue Paper Warehouse on Aldermanbury, to whom we will return, his ‘Japan and Indian figured Hangings’ were the ‘true Sorts’, distinguishable from counterfeits by ‘their Weight, Strength, Thickness and Colour, Dy’d through’ making them ‘in every way more lasting and serviceable’ (Figure 1.3).11 So the strength of the paper and the depth and opacity of the colours used for printing were evidently seen as key factors in durability, suggesting that the manner of manufacture was worth explaining at this early date. Consumers were warned off counterfeit products, which Price described as ‘daub’d over with a slight and superficial paint’ on ‘thin and common Brown Paper’. In Price’s voice then mere ‘paper hangings’ are not ephemeral and superficial products, but ‘lasting and serviceable’, an aid to maintaining the household environment, conveying solidity and decorum. ‘Superficial’ is also a derogatory term implying a colour which lacks durability and opacity, in contrast to his claims for his own products. Vanessa Alayrac-Fielding’s key study has noted the decisive role played by durability of colours in determining the quality of both wallpaper and fabrics.12 Colours’ durability was certainly highlighted by makers of mock India (Chinese) paper, since Chinese wallpaper’s own vibrant grounds of blue, pink and yellow faded easily. In accounts, letters and on bills wallpapers are, however, often distinguished by a combination of colour, pattern or technique. For example, as early as 1712 Lady Grisell Baillie (1692–1733) was replacing plush hangings in her London house with ‘stamped’ and ‘varnished’ paper.13 Later in the century colours were often added to techniques on bills, for example ‘purple and white printed’, and ‘yellow imboss’d’ (i.e. flocked) and finally patterns themselves were singled out, for example ‘green sprig’. Although references to specific colours are more unusual, blue was the exception. In 1768 Edward Woodcock, a manufacturer of paper hangings on Fleet Street, advertised ‘Blues Rooms, or rooms done to match any colours’.14 It is just possible that the fashion for blue was linked to the taste for displaying imported blue and white ceramics; in 1758 Mary Delany helped the Duchess of Portland to put back her ‘china’ and ‘japan’

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 23

Figure 1.3  Trade card for The Blue Paper Warehouse, on Aldermanbury, London, c.1702, engraved by John Sturt (1656–1730).

in the cabinets in her dressing room which had been redecorated with plain blue paper, the same colour as Delany’s own closet.15 Vickery has analysed the hierarchies of colours evidenced in the letter books of Trollope’s, whose paper hanging business on 15 Parliament Street, Westminster was founded in 1778. She concluded that blue, third in colour hierarchies after red and green, had become, by the 1730s, a feature of fashionable interiors, perhaps hastened by the discovery of Prussian blue.16

24  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ Wallpapers also offered practical benefits in the maintenance of the domestic environment calculated to appeal to overburdened household managers, struggling to meet eighteenth-century standards of decorum, and it was these physical qualities which papers’ advocates were quick to establish. Dampness was always an issue. As early as 1699 the commentator John Houghton recommended to his readers pasting printed paper onto walls, since the product was ‘cheap and if kept from wet, very lasting’.17 Pollution was another area where papers could rival textiles, since, as César de Saussare noted in 1725, textile hangings were rapidly discoloured by dust from coal fires, a particular problem in urban centres such as London.18 According to an advert in the General Advertiser of 1751, paper hangings could be dusted effectively with feather brooms, a task which avoided the costs and inconvenience of cleaning textile panels, which needed to be removed and then re-stretched before fixing back onto the wall. Dusting paper could also be achieved much more easily and quickly than going over wood or stucco ornament, suggesting another advantage of this two-dimensional material. J. Emon, the proprietor of a wood-turner’s shop on the Haymarket, even moved from simply supplying such brooms to selling the products these could clean, including paper hangings, stucco and gilt frames.19 Costly paper could also be protected by hanging it selectively on the wall, often above a wainscot dado. In 1750s Brussels Mrs Calderwood went one step further in her rented house, hanging a rush matting dado, bought for about 4d. per yard, to prevent her English paper (purchased locally at a crown a piece) being ‘rubbed and dirtied’.20 Pollution was not the only enemy of textile hangings, so too were pests. In July 1758 Mr Bodeur, a stationer near the Bell dock in Wapping, offered a guarantee that houses where he put up hangings would be ‘free from bugs’ as long as the hangings lasted.21 By 1774 the Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences described flocks as ‘a great improvement of the manufacture of paper hangings, both with regard to the beauty and durableness’.22 Flocks offered practical as well as aesthetic benefits, since the turpentine used in the glue helped to repel moths, and they were less likely to rot than the silk and velvet textiles whose designs they imitated. Some manufacturers were adept at combining the physical and visual qualities of the material. According to the stationer Simon Vertue (fl. from 1736) of the Royal Exchange, fireproofing of paper offered multiple benefits. First, Vertue claimed, ‘by the Nature of the Preparations Vermin will not harbour in or destroy them’, and second the process could ‘prevent the many fatal Accidents attending the Use of common Paper Hangings’, ensuring that the paper would not ‘flame or communicate Fire’. Fire was a key concern in London, and when it was linked to paper hangings it was worthy of reporting: On Saturday night a fire happened at the House of Mr. Levy in Ingram Court in Fenchurch Street, occasioned by the Children being at Play in the Nursery, who set fire to the Paper Hangings, which immediately set the Room in a Blaze, and destroyed most of the Furniture, but was extinguished without doing any further Damage.23 Concerns about fire were also one, seemingly contradictory, way in which paper hangings could challenge other, more established, forms of decoration. In 1767 it was reported from Paris that ‘if the Use of Wainscotting became less public, and Tapestry or Paper Hangings were to be adopted in its Rooms, Fire might only be less frequent, but also less Swift in their Destruction’.24

Figure 1.4  Trade card for Thomas Bromwich (active 1729–d.1787) at the sign of the ‘Golden Lyon’, on Ludgate Hill, London, c.1748, printed engraving.

26  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ Vertue’s product had other qualities too, since he claimed it was stronger and more durable than common hangings, but the final benefit was an aesthetic one, since he advertised it was equal in beauty too, so it is possible that the fire-retardant process was linked to the creation of particular visual effects.25 By 1737 he had acquired a patent to make and prepare the paper which was for sale in both York and Cambridge and advertised his ability to produce ‘fine hangings made to match any Needle-Work, shaded in a most beautiful manner’.26

Wallpaper’s growth: imitation and gentility It was not of course just physical considerations that helped wallpaper make inroads into the domain of other, higher status, forms of wall decoration. As outlined in the Introduction, wallpapers were also designed to be read in relation to other fashionable materials. This involved a process of imitation, a process that combined invention and adaptation, and which trade cards and advertisements can illuminate. For example, imitation of more expensive textiles and stucco finishes was singled out in his obituary as the key factor in Thomas Bromwich’s (active 1729–d.1787) commercial success. This claimed that he ‘had acquired a genteel fortune on Ludgate Hill, by his ingenuity in manufacturing paper hangings in imitation of stucco as well as of damasks, brocades, and other stuffs employed for hanging rooms’.27 Bromwich’s trade card of c.1748 highlighted this skill in imitation, claiming to match textiles including ‘Chints’s, Callicoes, Cottons, Needlework & Damasks’ in paper and ‘to the utmost exactness, at Reasonable Rates’ (Figure 1.4).28 Designs and finishes taken from textiles were then being used to produce new goods (paper hangings) out of other materials, which on the one hand mimicked older and more luxurious products, but on the other were quite new. Innovation in manufacturing, i.e. the ability to accurately match patterns and colours, was also being used as a selling point, even if in practice consumers were more concerned with aesthetic effects than how papers were actually made. Paper hangings’ patterns demonstrated from the first the ability to imitate whatever was deemed fashionable and exclusive. In the early years of the century it was an element integrated with the building’s fabric, wainscot (Plate 1). Price’s advert of 1706 referred to ‘imitation’ of ‘other coloured Wainscots (which are to be put up in Pannels and Mouldings made for that purpose)’.29 Once hung on the wall some designs could repeat, as in the case of a black printed paper of c.1685 with a formal strap-work pattern imitating wainscot, hung in the ground floor front room at 8 West Street, Epsom in Surrey, a house owned by a family of textile merchants and weavers.30 The paper was hung above the dado height panelling, suggesting the play on wood’s pattern and texture and the transition from imaginary to real material was appreciated by the London merchants who popularised towns such as Epsom, which enjoyed a building boom from the 1680s.31 Malcolm Jones has also drawn attention to a description of the practice, dating from 1674, advocated by the author of cookery and household management books, Hannah Woolley (c.1623–after 1674). Woolley advised cutting out black and white, as well as coloured, prints and arranging them on the wall, and recommended a background of marbleised deal panelling, claiming that prints to create ‘fine stories’, ‘Gardens and Forests’ and ‘Landskips’ could all be purchased from ‘a Shop that is well stored’, such was the choice already available.32 Abraham Price was also careful to point out that his paper imitating wainscot was suitable ‘for the Hanging of Parlours, Dining Rooms and staircases’, indicating

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 27 wallpaper’s challenge to wainscot in certain rooms, especially where it avoided the costly business of installing panelling in awkward spaces such as the stair.33 Even once installed there were other costs involved in finishing wainscot: Coleby’s list of prices from c.1800 ranged from 3d. per yard for one coat of varnish on wainscot, to 6d. per yard for additional coats. As soon as imitation of more costly wood was demanded prices jumped dramatically: satinwood, mahogany, maple, pollard oak and other ‘fancy woods’ were charged at 5d. per foot.34 In 1708 a group of stationers and card makers advertised ‘all sorts of Paper Hangings for Rooms’ including ‘Wainscot done in Oyl’, suggesting these might have been printed in black outlines and then hand painted to produce aesthetic effects to rival Coleby’s, but presumably still at less cost.35 Wallpaper then offered a desirable alternative, one so desirable that it may have hastened wainscot’s decline. Imitation of wainscot does not appear on paper manufacturers’ cards much after the 1720s, and by 1763 Thomas Mortimer was highlighting the appeal of paper in The Universal Director: The art of Painting and Staining of Paper of various patterns and colours, for hanging of rooms, is lately become a very considerable branch of commerce in this country, for we annually export vast quantities of this admired article; and the home consumption is not less considerable, as it is not only a cheap, but an elegant part of furniture, and saves the builders the expense of wainscoting; for which reason they have brought it in vogue, and most of the new houses lately erected are lined throughout with Paper.36 According to Mortimer, by the early 1760s paper staining was not just a passing novelty, but had recently become a significant economic activity. Wallpaper was seen as readily available, to London builders at least, and in large quantities and at a reasonable price. The speed with which it could be hung and the qualities of newness it conveyed are implicit, in addition to the attractions of its price in comparison to the cost of installing and painting wood panelling. To Mortimer, wallpapers were not about conveying grandeur and formality, rather they were conveying a new form of fashionability. In these new (or newly refurbished) homes they dominated walls throughout the home. Wainscot lingered on, however, particularly in the dining room. Its durability and resistance to food odours may have been valued here: writing about the decoration of their Hill Street house in 1760 Sir Lawrence Dundas (1710–81) reminded his wife, ‘Pegie’, that ‘I would wish to have the dinning room [sic] lined with timber in place of paper for I think a room for eating should be wainscoted in place of paper’.37 Nor were these transformative attractions confined to new homes, as John Nichols complained when he described the development of Canonbury House near the New River in Islington in 1788: ‘Such of the old apartments as have been spared, are disguised by alterations, and the fine old panelled wainscot either daubed over with modern paint, or concealed by paper hangings’.38 Painting panels in newly fashionable colours or covering them over with wallpaper, rather than finishing with plain oil or graining, were seen by Nichols as superficial acts of concealment. Nichols is therefore an early example of what Carol Armstrong has memorably termed an ‘old contempt for material crafting, the surface and the superficial’.39 Wainscot was not the only candidate for imitation in paper hangings, another was japanning, or imitation of imported lacquer. Scott has compared wallpaper and japanning in eighteenth-century Paris, arguing that the manufacture of wallpapers and

28  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ japanned panels entered the market at a point between the artisan workshop and the larger integrated firm. Both trades focused on one activity to produce multiple products and patterns whilst costs were kept comparatively low, so it is not unlikely that they drew on similar design sources.40 There is some evidence to suggest cross-over in Britain, too, from an early date. In c.1680 George Minnikin advertised that he made and sold ‘all Sorts of Japan and other colord papr hangings’.41 The Blue Paper Warehouse’s products also included ‘Japan and Indian figured hangings and another sort, consisting of large Japanese subjects’ and by 1694 the company had opened a ‘large Japan warehouse’ in Covent Garden.42 There are also scraps of evidence of cross-over in design; a tin sellers’ pattern book that illustrated patterns for japanning in the form of vignettes and borders could be readily adaptable to wallpapers, too.43 Japanning was not the only early source for wallpaper patterns. As noted earlier, patterns imitating embroidery also appeared from an early date. It was not just black work which was available in paper imitations, but a wide range of other embroidered and woven textiles. In August, 1701, Jacob Hinde on King Street near London’s Guildhall advertised that he sold ‘all Sorts of Paper Hangings by the yard, viz. IrishStitch, Diamond-Stitch, Damask, Brocade and Turkey-work’.44 The Blue Paper Warehouse and other early suppliers also advertised patterns ‘in imitation of Irish Stitch’ implying that the ability to imitate this distinctive zig-zag pattern was an early selling point.45 It may also signal paper’s move into the bedchamber where in 1746 Mary Delany described ‘yellow flaring hangings of paper’ in her Pall Mall lodgings.46 Flame stitch patterned paper may have followed the hangings’ use in closets. Nor was flame stitch the only embroidery type adopted for papers. A stencilled design of a large scale flowering tree, with the details painted in and a collaged border, was installed in the first floor room, in all likelihood a bedchamber, in the west wing of The Hollytrees, completed in 1748 for the lawyer and Colchester MP Charles Gray (1696–1782). This large scale pattern has always been linked to Chinese wallpaper models, but it relates more closely to hangings worked in coloured wool on linen, an effect which the use of bold stencilling in distemper colours and the picking out of details in collage and paint evoked.47 The flowering tree motif fills the ground, the design overlapping the next panel and filling the wall space including the over-door, its very scale mimicking that of bed hangings.48 Some early suppliers also judged it was worthwhile to supply papers imitating not only embroidered but leather hangings, and here again there was cross-over between trades. In 1706 the Blue Paper Warehouse was advertising paper hangings ‘in yard wide Imbost work, in imitation of gilded Leather’.49 A wallpaper lining one door of a child’s wardrobe made by Edmund Joy in 1712 may imitate a leather hanging, while the finding of a flocked leather, a hanging more usually associated with Holland and Germany, in a house in Worcester suggests its origins may have been linked to London leather gilders who, as demand for leather hangings declined, began to look for ways to update their products.50 There were evidently close links between the two trades from the first; the members of the Painters’ and Painter-Stainers’ Company whom Alan Borg listed as closely involved in the early wallpaper trade were all makers and retailers of gilded leather hangings for rooms and furnishings, for example John Hutton (d.1764) whose apprentices included Robert Halford (active from c.1748).51 Entwisle further suggested that the stamped and gilded patterns used on leather were also found to be appropriate for paper, and leather hangings makers must certainly have appreciated the need to accommodate shifting tastes for certain patterns and colours in their

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 29 designs. As the popularity of leather hangings declined, firms such as Bromwich’s moved into supplying papers.53 In the early 1740s Thomas Bromwich still described himself as a ‘Leather Gilder and Paper Mercht’, and signalled that he supplied ‘guilt’ [sic] leather for screens, table covers and hangings for rooms, cabins and stair-cases, but after 1748 references to leather disappeared from his bill heads.54 In the first half of the century English flocks were also amongst the wallpapers most admired and sought after both at home and further afield. Produced by sifting dyed wool clippings over a coloured ground printed in a pattern with adhesive, the result was a three-dimensional effect which could imitate textile and other raised designs. As with printed papers, it is possible that the taste for flocks had its origins among wealthy merchants with connections to continental Europe through maritime trade, especially those from east coast port towns. One example is the pattern of c.1715–20, composed of oak stems and lattice work flocked in dark green on an off-white ground from Welwick House, King’s Lynn, whose linear character may have been derived from Dutch flocked canvas hangings.55 Early flocks were also used in combination with other wall decorations. It is possible that the Blue Paper Warehouse supplied the scheme of c.1680 hung in a first floor room at Ivy House within the precincts of Worcester Cathedral, which combined flocked paper with leather hangings (Plate 2). Panels of embossed leather in a design of cherubs and floral swags alternated with lengths of flock paper to create dramatic contrasts between the sheen on leather, and the matt crimson flock on a glazed white ground.56 In 1932 Oman described the combination as ‘the freak of some eccentric individual’, but it was evidently intentionally so, since the flock overlaps the leather.57 Rather than being exceptional, it may have represented a transition between leather and flock hangings.58 Similarly, there is some evidence that flock may have been used in conjunction with wainscot, following the fashion of textile hangings. The panels of what may be a large scale blue/green flock (rather than damask) framed against the panelling in Charles Philips’ portrait of 52

Figure 1.5  Trade card for Clarkson and Porter’s paper hangings warehouse in Bermondsey, London, c.1800, printed engraving.

30  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ The Strong Family of 1732 may provide evidence of this taste.59 Similarly, the supply to the Duchess of Norfolk of thirteen pieces of ‘China Pattern Paper’ and three pieces each of green and crimson damask suggests a further development of this in practice, where paper initially alternated with other surfaces, not necessarily always replacing textiles or wainscot.60 Printed papers could also match a wide range of furnishing textiles, especially chintz. The light grounds and vivid colours of chintz lent themselves well to wallpapers, indeed it is possible that a scheme from 8 West Street, Epsom, of around 1700 combined sheets of paper imitating wainscot with a chintz design of flower buds stencilled in orange and greens.61 The taste for chintz designs was evidently an enduring one; Roberts’s paper hanging warehouse on Pall Mall gave an exhaustive list of the textiles that could be copied in about 1760, including a ‘great variety of fine Chintz patterns; Likewise linen, cotton and silk damask furniture, match’d to the utmost exactness at the very lowest prices’.62 Textiles used for dress were also imitated: The paper hanging warehouse owner Robert Dunbar (d.1744) was known for his skills in imitating costly brocades, as is shown by a bill of June 1740, for 51½ yards of ‘Green on Yellow Mantua’ with 4 dozen ‘Frett’ borders, and 2 yards of ‘bleus on Yellow Mantua’ with borders. These skills may have enabled Dunbar to attract clients such as Sir Richard Hoare, who paid £5.12s.0d. for paper hangings in May 1741, shortly before his marriage.63 The quantities listed suggest the decoration of a bed chamber or dressing room, and perhaps its closet or powdering room, in two colourways of the same pattern which recalled the brocade of a woven silk robe or mantua.64 The business was carried on by Dunbar’s son, as too was the specialism in imitating textile finishes including ‘Chints, Damasks, Brocades, Cut Velvets’.65 Matching printed textiles could also be achieved cheaply by stencilling in combination with block printing; for example, both techniques were used in a trellis-work floral pattern imitating linen or fustian of c.1740 from Whitehall, Cheam in Surrey.66 Some manufacturers specialised in copying certain textiles; Joseph Smith (fl. c.1753–c.1768) advertised that he matched silk and damask furniture (i.e. furnishing textiles) to patterns, whereas Robert Stark (d.1783) matched damask and linen.67 Examples of linen and paper matching are more common than matching damask, and perhaps this was simply more profitable than copying a damask with a large repeat which was available in a restricted number of patterns anyway. For example, at Holkham Hall in Norfolk the top floor bedrooms in the family wing had linen bed curtains and chair covers in the same pattern as the wallpaper.68 Nor was this a one-way process, since Montagu Lawrence on the Strand offered his mock India papers’ patterns ‘done up in silk, for Chairs, Curtains etc’.69 It was not just fashionable addresses that advertised services to match textiles and papers. Clarkson and Porter’s warehouse on the Grange Road in Bermondsey also offered to cut patterns to match linens, but here it was not exactness but speed (‘on the Shortest Notice’) that was the selling point (Figure 1.5). These references may also reflect the close links between printing textiles and wallpaper, using blocks ‘daubed over with paint, and then pressed on the paper.’70 By the late 1740s it was evidently more usual to match pattern and colour, so when this was not done it was worth remarking on. In 1747 Fanny Boscawen (1719–1805) wrote to her husband, the Admiral, describing the choice of wallpapers and fabrics for their South Audley Street house. Boscawen had visited Bromwich’s to choose papers,

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 31 alongside other domestic tasks such as having the servants’ bells hung, recruiting a maid and buying china, suggesting such decorative decisions were an accepted part of her role. Her letter reveals her concerns about price, although this evidently had not stopped her buying from a leading supplier: ‘My second room is not yet hung, not having been able to get any paper to my mind under an exorbitant price. At length, however, I have agreed for one, and Bromwich comes to put it up to-morrow’.71 On the bow-window room’s decoration she also reveals her concerns about matching paper and textiles: I want abundance of chintz for my bow-window room. Not but I have got an extreme pretty linen for half a crown a yard; the same pattern as the hangings, only they are coloured, and this is only blue and white. I consulted nobody about either - not one single person having seen either the paper or the linen till both were made up. Everybody commends each separate, but dislike [sic] them together and maintain I must have coloured linen to my coloured paper. I agree so far with them that I bestow my old chintz gowns as fast as they wear out, but till then I shall not give up my taste and opinion that ‘tis now extremely pretty.72 Boscawen then went against contemporary taste in that although she chose the same chintz design for the upholstery and wallpaper, she did not match the colourways. It was not just qualities of durability and imitation that were used to categorise wallpapers. Paper hangings manufacturers were often at pains to highlight the positive effects of being able to exercise taste in terms such as ‘genteel’ and ‘elegant’. Clarkson and Porter might be able to match linen patterns speedily, but they were also anxious to assure prospective customers that their choice of paper hangings was ‘of the newest & most genteel’ (Figure 1.5). Similarly, clients such as the Miss Harrison whose purchases from William Lovell on Fleet Street included a grey flowered paper and borders could be confident that she was buying from a maker who proclaimed that he combined novelty with decorum in his ‘New & Elegant Paper Hangings’.73 ‘Elegant’ seems to be a term that contemporaries were particularly anxious to attach to Chinese wallpapers and their imitations, perhaps in an attempt to escape its antithesis, gaudiness and show. Indeed, mock India paper manufacturers such as Montagu Lawrence claimed his products were ‘far more picturesque, elegant and lively than real India’.74 Regional suppliers can be seen to evoke similar qualities. Qualities of newness and decorum are combined in the 1770s trade cards of an Exeter bookseller and bookbinder, William Grigg, who claimed to retail ‘the newest and genteelest’ papers.75 Victoria Morgan has noted that regional advertising used courteous language and flattery to embed ideas of civility, gentility and respectability, at the same time as drawing on the cultural cachet of London connections and standards of taste.76 This is well evidenced by the Leeds upholsterer William Armitage (traded 1769–c.1782) who pointed out in his 1773 newspaper advertisement that he has ‘just returned from London where he has laid in an elegant assortment of the following articles, which are of the newest construction and the genteelest Taste, viz India, Mock India, Imboss’d and Common Paper Hangings & c.’ implying that his stock offered qualities of both novelty and gentility.77

32  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’

Design and workshop practice Implicit in these skills in imitation and the ability to combine this with gentility was the adaptation of designs, and the invention of new ones. Charles Saumarez Smith’s work on the period after 1740 has defined it as one acutely aware of the visual appearance of goods and of the role of design, in the sense of the prior conception and invention of fashionable models.78 This must have been due, at least in part, to the fact that adaptation of successful designs needed information about what others, especially leaders of fashion, were producing and also what different consumers were looking for (or could be persuaded they were looking for).79 Information reached wallpapers in various ways. Some patterns were easily traced by a skilled pattern drawer or block-cutter, either by obtaining an example of the product to be imitated or a two-dimensional depiction of it. Early papers, such as a scrolling foliate design block printed in one colour, rust-red, seem to have involved tracing the textile original, in this case an Italian printed linen.80 Tracing a linen or damask pattern to be printed the same size was one thing, but scaling up a piece of stucco into a design capturing the three-dimensional effects of plasterwork and creating a repeat suitable for a 21 inch wide piece was a far more demanding task. In 1761 the poet Thomas Gray (1716–71) summed up the duties of a ‘Designer of Papers’ succinctly as ‘what is represented in one breadth, must be exactly repeated on another, both in light and shade, and in the dimensions’.81 Gray’s use of the term ‘designer’ may reflect its usage in textiles, where by the mid-century the role of providing new designs for patterned textiles was seen as distinct from that of the pattern drawer.82 One such early example is James Leman (1688–1745), who supplied private and commercial customers with Spitalfields silk motifs that are so close to wallpapers that he may have made designs for these, too.83 There is also evidence, as Matthew Craske has shown, that some manufactures and consumers were more aware than others of the increasing significance of wider literary discourse on design.84 In the paper hangings trade, leading manufacturers were concerned with aspects of design, or perhaps it was this that gave them a commercial edge. Some made use of wider networks of artists, decorators and skilled craftsmen. St Martin’s Lane was the centre of one such network, and has been claimed as an important centre for the dissemination of the Rococo style. Many of its residents had connections with the paper hangings trade. The cabinet-makers Thomas Chippendale (1718–79) and John Linnell (1729–96) both supplied papers, as did the architect James Paine (1717–89), but some tradesmen were more directly involved in the design and manufacture of paper hangings.85 One example is Matthew (Matthias) Darly (c.1720–c.1779), who lived at the same address as Chippendale when engraving plates for the latter’s Director. Describing himself as a ‘Painter, Engraver and Paper Stainer’, Darly positioned himself as high art practitioner first, tradesman second (Figure 1.6). Clive Edwards has identified Darly’s career as an example of the growing importance of printed sources and their specialist production.86 Amongst other services, Darly offered to supply drawn and engraved ornamental designs in ‘Greek, Roman or other tastes’, not only to gentlemen and ladies but also to tradesmen.87 However, it was not Greek and Roman designs but those in ‘Modern, Gothic or Chinese Taste’ that were illustrated on Darly’s handbill for his paper hangings manufactory on the Strand. Unfurling lengths of Rococo florals, plain ground paper, a Gothic ogee arch and a bamboo trellis pattern as well as

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 33

Figure 1.6  Trade card for Matthias (Matthew) Darly’s (c.1720–c.1779) manufactory for paper hangings at the sign of the ‘Acorn’, the Strand, London, c.1760–70, engraved by Darly.

chinoiserie figurative panels cascade around the card’s central shield motif. Darly’s paper products were therefore aligned with styles that were applied to both material objects and to decoration. Darly’s handbill also mentioned the supply of ‘Sketches, Or Designs for Gentlemen’s Different fancies’, implying more active involvement by consumers in

34  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ the design process. In 1756 he and his partner emphasised that since the drawings they showed were ‘of our own Designing, Gentlemen may have any Fancy of their own immediately done, and waited upon at their own Houses’.88 Saumarez Smith has also drawn attention to Darly as symptomatic of a competitive market economy in which there was widespread appetite for novelty in engravings.89 He certainly occupied a wider role in the visual representation of paper hangings, designing other leading wallpaper manufacturers’ trade cards, including those for Jones’s (fl.1771–83) and Davenport’s (c.1792).90 Manufacturers also challenged the role of painters in decorating the room. Davenport’s sold ‘Landscapes’ both ‘for and over Chimney’s’, suggesting they were seeking control of an aspect of the interior previously controlled by painters, and therefore needed the cachet of Darly’s name.91 By the early 1760s skills in painting were seen as essential for those wishing to work for paper hangings makers, a trade described as one ‘lately much improved, and may still be carried to a higher degree of perfection’. This trade required ‘a boy of genius, who has learnt to draw, and has a taste for painting; and as they now make landscapes, ruins and sea-pieces, as the ornaments for chimney-pieces, some knowledge of perspective is also necessary’.92 The qualities required of a painter, including skills in the handling of paint and mathematical organisation of space, were then seen as essential to successful paper designs. Although evidence for the role of design in workshop practice is limited, the examples discussed here suggest that the new breed of paper hangings tradesmen were acutely aware of papers’ visual qualities. Paper on the one hand enabled consumers to aspire to the status of textiles, leather and wainscot finishes, but on the other offered a new layer of interaction with decoration through its imitative qualities. Nor did tradesmen shy away from confronting oppositions between fine art and the mechanical arts, rather the trade sought to redraw these boundaries by challenging the place of painting as well as introducing innovative new products. In the next chapter, we will examine how trading networks were organised to both create, and respond to, consumer demand for this new decorative material.

Notes 1 Michael Snodin, ‘Trade Cards and the English Rococo’, in The Rococo in England: A Symposium, ed. Charles Hind (London: V&A Museum, 1986), 82–103. 2 Katie Scott, ‘The Waddesdon Manor Trade Cards: More Than One History’ in ‘Disseminating Design: The French Connection’ ed. Katie Scott and Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 17, no. 1 (2004), 99. 3 Ibid., 94–96. 4 Anthony J. Conybeare, ‘Boxing Clever: A Brief Look at Lining Papers’ Wallpaper History Review (1996/7), 10–11. 5 Jean Hamilton, ‘Early English Wallpapers’ Connoisseur 195 (1977), 201–6, fig. 4. 6 The paper of c. 1600–50 was found at Gable Cottage, Dinton, near Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, see Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), cat. 57. 7 Hamilton, ‘Early English Wallpapers’, 201. 8 C.C. Oman and Jean Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cats 29, 30; Author’s email to Andrew Bush, 13 March 2014.

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 35 9 Trade card of George Minnikin, British Museum, Bagford Collection, c.1680, E.A. Entwisle, The Book of Wallpaper: A History and an Appreciation (Bath: Kingsmead Reprints, 1970), pl. 25. 10 Andrew Bush, ‘Matching “Furnitures” – some mid-18th Century Stencilled Wallpapers’ Wallpaper History Review (2015), 20–21. Another example is at Bowood. 11 Trade card for the Blue Paper Warehouse, before 1702, British Museum, Bagford Collection, E.A. Entwisle, A Literary History of Wallpaper (London: Batsford, 1960), pl. 18. 12 Vanessa Alayrac-Fielding, ‘“Luscious Colors and Glossy Paint”: The Taste for China and the Consumption of Color in Eighteenth-Century England’ in The Materiality of Color, ed. Andrea Feeser, Maureen Daly Goggin and Beth Fowkes Tobin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), 81–97. 13 Robert Scott-Moncrieff, ed., The Household Book of Lady Grisell Baillie 1692–1733 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1911), lxv. 14 Gazette, 1 February 1768, Burney. For more on Woodcock see Chapter 3. 15 Mrs Delany to Mrs Dewes, 19 January 1758 in Lady Llanover, ed. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs Delany (3 Vols. London: Richard Bentley, 1861) Vol. 3, 477. 16 Amanda Vickery, Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2009), 173–75. 17 Cited in Anthony Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies: English Manufacture 1680–1830’, in Lesley Hoskins, ed., The Papered Wall: The History, Patterns and Techniques of Wallpaper (London: Thames and Hudson, 2005), 22–41, 22. 18 Cited in Charles Saumarez Smith, The Rise of Design: Design and the Domestic Interior in Eighteenth-Century England (London: Pimlico, 2000), 79. 19 General Advertiser, 20 August 1751, Burney. 20 Alexander Fergusson, ed., Letters and Journals of Mrs. Calderwood of Polton from England, Holland and the Low Countries in 1756 (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1884), 247–48. 21 Public Advertiser, 21 July 1758, Burney. 22 The Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences; or, Complete System of Literature (London, 1774, ECCO), Vol. 3, 334. 23 St James’s Evening Post, 3 April 1733, Burney. 24 Public Advertiser, 24 February 1767, Burney. 25 11 February 1738, annotated typed advertisement sent by the furniture historian R.W. Symonds to Ambrose Heal, 27 September 1943, BM, HC. 26 London Evening Post, October 1737, Burney. 27 Gentleman’s Magazine, 28 July 1787, quoted in E.A. Entwisle, ‘Eighteenth-Century London Paperstainers: Thomas Bromwich’ Connoisseur, American edition (October 1952), 110. 28 BM, HC 91.5, Entwisle, Literary History, pl. 22. 29 Postman, 2 May 1706, Burney. 30 The same design was hung in a house in Chichester, Sussex. See Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, 22–27; Wells-Cole ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’, 24–25. 31 Séan Khan, ‘Paper Tapestry’, Epsom Wells and the Origin of English Wallpaper 1680–1720 (Tenbury Wells: Global Décor Publications, 2012), pl. 3. 32 Malcolm Jones, ‘How to Decorate a Room with Prints, 1674’ Print Quarterly 20, no.3 (2003), 247–49. For a discussion of print rooms see Chapter 6. 33 Trade card for the Blue Paper Warehouse, before 1702, BM, Bagford Collection, Entwisle, Literary History, pl. 18. 34 List on reverse of trade card for Coleby’s, 42, Regent Circus, c.1800, BM, HC 90.27. 35 British Apollo, adverts in November and December 1708, Burney. On the painted imitation of wood see James Ayres, Domestic Interiors: The British Tradition 1500–1850 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2003), 170. 36 Thomas Mortimer, ‘Paper-Hanging Manufacturers’, in The Universal Director; or, the Nobleman and Gentleman’s True Guide to the Masters and Professors of the Liberal and Polite Arts and Sciences (London: 1763, ECCO), 53. 37 Helen Clifford, ‘The Dundas Property Empire and Nabob Taste: Accommodating the East: Sir Lawrence Dundas as Nabob of the North?’ East India Company at Home (February 2013), 12, http://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/eicah/files/2013/02/Aske-Hall-Final-PDF-19.08.14.pdf.

36  ‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 38 John Nichols, The History and Antiquities of Canonbury-House at Islington, in the County of Middlesex (London: author’s publication, 1788, ECCO), 31. 39 Quoted in Alden Cavanaugh and Michael E. Yonan, ‘Introduction’ in The Cultural Aesthetics of Eighteenth-Century Porcelain, ed. Alden Cavanaugh and Michael E. Yonan (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 10. 40 Katie Scott, The Rococo Interior: Decoration and Social Spaces in Early Eighteenth-Century Paris (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1995), 40. 41 Entwisle, The Book of Wallpaper, pl. 25. 42 William Scott, The Constitution and Finance of English, Scottish and Irish Joint-Stock companies to 1720 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1911) Vol. 3, 71–72. 43 Bodleian Library, John Johnson Collection (Bod., JJC), 1–2/1981. 44 Post Man, August 1701 and December 1701, Burney. 45 See for example adverts placed by stationers in The British Apollo between November and December 1708, Burney. 46 Mrs Delany to Mrs Dewes, 15 January 1746, quoted in Llanover, Correspondence of Mrs Delany, Vol. 2, 446. 47 Hilary Jenkinson, ‘A Recently Discovered Wall-Paper at Colchester’ Transactions of the Essex Archaeological Society 19 (1930), 224–29. 48 One panel of wallpaper survives in situ and another as a separate panel at The Hollytrees, now part of Colchester and Ipswich Museums; another panel is in the V&A, see Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 79. 49 Post Man, 2 May 1706, Burney. 50 Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 46; Halina Pasierbska, Dolls’ Houses from the V&A Museum of Childhood (London: V&A Museum, 2015), 38–43; Eric Entwisle, ‘Wool on the Walls’ Country Life (12 December 1974), fig. 3. 51 Alan Borg, The History of the Worshipful Company of Painters and Painter Stainers (Huddersfield: Mills for the Worshipful Company of Painter Stainers, 2005) 110, and Appendix B, 214. 52 Entwisle, ‘Thomas Bromwich’, 106. 53 Eloy Koldeweij, ‘Gilt Leather Hangings in Chinoiserie and other Styles: An English Speciality’ Furniture History 36 (2000), 75. 54 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Alderman Hoare, 19 October 1744, BM, HC 91.6. 55 On Welbeck House see Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’, 27; Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cats 36 and 38; Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, cat. 33. On the Dutch flock see Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 33. 56 Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 18; E.A. Entwisle, ‘The Blew Paper Warehouse in Aldermanbury, London’ Connoisseur (American edition) 125 (May 1952), 94–98, ill. no.VI. In 1679 John Price, chapter clerk, rebuilt this house. 57 C.C. Oman, ‘An Unusual Charles II Wall-Hanging’ Connoisseur 90 (October 1932), 274. 58 Entwisle, ‘The Blew Paper Warehouse’, 96–97; Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 18; Hamilton, Wallpaper, fig. 13. 59 Metropolitan Museum 44.159; Charles Saumarez Smith, Eighteenth Century Decoration: Design and the Domestic Interior in England (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1993), pl. 89. Kate Retford has argued, however, that the ‘Amberley’ pattern is a damask, and an early example of a staggered repeat, see Kate Retford, The Conversation Piece: Making Modern Art in Eighteenth-Century Britain (London: Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2017), 174–75, 177. 60 Rosemary Baird, Mistress of the House: Great Ladies and Grand Houses 1670–1830 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2003), 126. 61 Khan, Paper Tapestry, pls. 6, 13. 62 Trade Cards 23 (95), Bod., JJC. 63 Sir Richard Hoare’s personal account book, 1731–51, C. Hoare & Co archive. 64 Entwisle, The Book of Wallpaper, pl. 27. Dunbar also sold J.B. Jackson’s ‘Landscapes printed in Colours, to represent Paintings’, see Chapter 5. 65 Daily Advertiser, 21 March 1752, Burney. 66 Treve Rosoman, London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840 (London: English Heritage, 2009), pl. 13.

‘Paper Hangings for Rooms’ 37 67 Bill from Joseph Smith, Angel Street, to Mrs Massingberd, 24 April 1753 (BM, HC 91.50); Trade card for Robert Stark, Ludgate Hill, c.1765–76 (BM, HC 91.53). 68 See John Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004), 194. 69 Public Advertiser, 3 November 1755, Burney. 70 Mrs Brookes, A Dialogue between a Lady and her Pupils, describing a Journey through England and Wales (London [1800?], ECCO), 268. 71 November–December 1747, quoted in Cecil Aspinall-Oglander, Admiral’s Wife: Being the Life and Letters of the Hon. Mrs. Edward Boscawen from 1717–1761 (London and New York: Longmans, Green & Co, 1940), 61 and 65. 72 Aspinall-Oglander, Admiral’s Wife, 73. 73 Bill from William Lovewell to Miss Harrison, 15 July 1802, BM, HC 91.39. 74 Public Advertiser, 19 May 1755, Burney. 75 Bookseller and Book-binder in the Exchange, opposite to Broad-Gate, and in Fore Street, Exeter, c.1770, Bod., JJC, Booktrade Devonshire temp sequence. 76 Victoria Morgan, ‘Beyond the Boundary of the Shop: Retail Advertising Space in EighteenthCentury Provincial England’ in Cultures of Selling: Perspectives on Consumption and Society since 1700, ed. John Benson and Laura Ugolini (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), 59–79. 77 Leeds Mercury, 11 May 1773, quoted in Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, 47–48. 78 Saumarez Smith, The Rise of Design, 124. 79 John Styles, ‘Manufacturing, Consumption and Design in Eighteenth-Century England’ in Consumption and the World of Goods, ed. John Brewer and Roy Porter (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 544. 80 Dated by Entwisle to the 1680s, see E.A. Entwisle ‘Early Wall-Papers’, Country Life (16 July 1953), 212–13. 81 Quoted in Edward Croft-Murray, Decorative Painting in England 1537–1837 (London: Country Life, 1970) 1: 43, note 4. 82 See Styles, ‘Manufacturing, Consumption and Design’, 543–44. 83 Wells-Cole, ‘Historic Paper Hangings’, 4. 84 For a detailed exploration of this point see Matthew Craske, ‘Plan and Control: Design and the Competitive Spirit in Early and Mid-Eighteenth-Century England’ in ‘EighteenthCentury Markets and Manufacturers in England and France’ ed. Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 12, no. 3 (1999), especially 188–89 and note 62. 85 John Middleton (traded c.1792–1810) at number 81 is discussed in Chapter 6. 86 Clive Edwards, Eighteenth-Century Furniture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), 145. 87 Ornamental Architect or Young Artists Instructor, 1771, later retitled A Compleat Body of Architecture, discussed in Eileen Harris, British Architectural Books and Writers 1556–1785 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 176–78. 88 Public Advertiser, 10 May 1756, Burney. 89 On this point see Saumarez Smith, The Rise of Design, 128. 90 Trade card for Davenport’s, 1792, BM, BC 91.8 and Jones’s, BM, HC 91.37. 91 See Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford, ‘Selling Consumption in the Eighteenth Century: Advertising and the Trade Card in Britain and France’ Cultural and Social History 4 (2007), 162. Roberts’s also advertised ‘Landskips for & over Chimney’s’ Bod., JJC, Trade Cards 23 (95). 92 Joseph Collyer, The Parent’s and Guardian’s Directory and the Youth’s Guide, in the Choice of a Profession or Trade (London, 1761, ECCO), 207.

2 A contested trade

This chapter examines the groups who made, sold and hung what became over the century an increasingly lucrative decorative product. It also aims to correct the narrow focus of Sugden and Edmondson on ‘famous pioneers’, an approach sustained by Entwisle, who consolidated his research in a series of articles covering firms such as Thomas Bromwich, the Blue Paper Warehouse and Eckhardts’.1 This approach parallels that of other early researchers such as Ambrose Heal, who focused on known major names.2 My aim has been to unpick the networks within which these better known names operated, since, like plasterwork, paper hangings encompassed a broad range of tasks and specialisms under what Lucey has aptly called the ‘umbrella’ of a working practice.3 The chapter shows how, at first, the industry relied on skills and experience from other trades, including paper making, colour men and those involved in the textiles trade, but over time it developed its own specialist suppliers, skills and equipment. I argue that technical innovations in manufacture are only part of the story, analysing the language of advertisements, trade cards and bills to show how this new material was framed to consumers and how the time and cost involved in its installation was seen to be justified. The interactions between those engaged in the trade also reveal how specialisms shifted over time as paper hangings of new types entered the market; indeed, skills in hanging emerge as a key way in which upholders sustained their role in the trade. Many of the artisans discussed have been little studied, their names unknown, and hence they have frequently escaped notice in bills and accounts.

Paper hangings manufacture: materials and techniques Until the 1800s the majority of wallpaper was made in London, but this was by no means the preserve of one group. Wallpaper might have been a lucrative product, but it was also a contested one. The divisions between the trades involved in paper hangings in part reflected their regulation; whereas paper makers were traditionally members of the Stationers’ Company, makers of wallpaper belonged to the Painters’ and Painter-Stainers’ Company and were known as paper stainers, while the Upholders has their own company.4 Rosoman pointed out that in terms of wallpaper’s supply ‘in the second half of the eighteenth century there was a blurring of distinctions between paper-stainers, upholsterers and cabinet-makers’.5 Part of the reason behind the fragmentation of the trade across different groups was the particular combination of materials and skills needed. Where stationers offered resources and expertise was most obviously in the supply of paper. Adverts and trade cards for paper makers and stationers selling paper

A contested trade 39 hangings sometimes incorporated imagery of mills and made reference to dealing in rags, suggesting that they had access to the raw materials for making paper and were well aware of the value of this as a new market. Examples of this group include Thomas Lovewell on Aldersgate Street and William Demezal on Whitechapel, the latter of whom was also a flock manufacturer, so could supply wool clippings for flocks too.6 This control by stationers is reinforced by the Modern Dictionary’s 1774 entry on paper hangings which stated that there was no need to explain the qualities of the ‘Unwrought’ paper ‘proper for Hangings’ as it was ‘a sort of coarse cartoon manufactured for this purpose’ which could ‘be had of all the wholesale stationers manufactured in a proper manner’.7 References to the actual paper used for hangings are therefore rare, but it seems that rag paper was used for early prints and flocks. R.L. Hills noted in 1988 that, from the examples of paper hangings he had studied, by the mid-eighteenth century this was replaced by paper made on a laid mould.8 Flocks and ‘embossed’ papers (a slippery term seemingly sometimes used to describe flocks, and sometimes paper which had the outlines of a pattern embossed over the flock, too) both demanded a heavier weight of paper. For example, in 1754 the upholder William Spinnage (d.c.1762) supplied a ‘fine Pompadour ingrain embossed on fine Elephant paper’ to John Russell, fourth Duke of Bedford (1710–71) for Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire.9 It was not just paper for decorating with colour and pattern that was required, however, but also brown paper to cover tacks used for fixing and sometimes for lining purposes too. Finer grades of cartouche paper in sheets (elephant is the usual size listed on bills) could also line walls hung with flocked or coloured papers. Stationers also supplied inks, another key ingredient in wallpapers. In 1750 Richard Walkden, a stationer and ink powder manufacturer on London Bridge, advertised his goods with the claim that he sold ‘ye greatest variety of Paper Hangings for Rooms’, a phrase which became virtually a by-line in the trade. However, Walkden also claimed that he was ‘the Maker of the Fine British Ink powder’, so may have entered the trade through the supply of black ink for printing early papers, and the outlines on later, coloured, papers too.10 One attraction of the trade was that in the 1740s it was cheaper, at around £500, to set up in making paper hangings than in other trades such as a cabinet-maker, since paper was a cheap raw material.11 However, quantities of equipment and other materials were still needed. The sale of stock, goods and ‘implements in trade’ of the ‘Paper-Machee-Manufacturer and Paper-Stainer’, William Fry, at 3 Ludgate Hill offers clues to this side of the business. The sale included ‘new Prints for paper-Hangings, Stencils, & C. Also valuable Books’, implying that Fry was directly involved in the design and application of pattern to paper.12 It also challenges the argument that stencilling was replaced by printing, since in the 1770s it was still worth highlighting stencils as desirable equipment, alongside ‘new prints’. Fry’s sale did not include any stock in trade, but when the paper stainer Archibald McMillan’s stock and utensils were sold in 1783 the sale included ‘500 pieces of paper hangings, 250 sheets of India ditto’. Five hundred pieces was a considerable amount, presumably of English (possibly his own) manufacture, and, together with roughly half that number of Chinese wallpapers, demonstrates the amount of stock that a paper hangings supplier could hold. The advert also listed equipment for making, including work benches and racks, the latter essential for looping up stained (coloured) paper to dry. Another essential was therefore space, and McMillan’s premises on James Street, Covent Garden, were

40  A contested trade described as ‘very roomy, convenient and in complete repair’. However, the key skill needed by a paper stainer was in handling colour. Considerable stocks of powdered colours, and equipment to grind them, were listed including ‘20 cwt of prepared white lead and colours, an exceedingly good colours mill, quite new, turpentine, casks and various other articles’.13 This would presumably allow the firm to respond to shifts in demand for different colours quickly, indeed these skills may be what distinguished successful paper stainers. McMillan’s sale also listed pictures and prints used in designs for wallpaper, but no equipment for stencilling or printing, which may have been auctioned off separately, or indeed carried out elsewhere. Lists of equipment do not, of course, allow us to reconstruct a business, but they do demonstrate some of the artisan skills which relied on other trades such as colour men, block and stencil cutters. Block cutters are a case in point. By 1761 demand for their skills was sufficiently well established for ‘Makers of Hanging-paper’ to be listed alongside calico and book printers as trades offering employment for ‘wood cutters’.14 However, a correspondent styling himself a retired ‘master in paper staining’ wrote to the Gazette in February 1768, to complain about the poor treatment of, and payments to, block cutters. He pointed out that ‘the ingenious part, and really the whole of it, is in the drawing and cutting the print’, and went on to remind masters of the value of design since ‘one good pattern is worth many bad’.15 Nevertheless, in the same year Edward Woodcock advertised pattern-drawing and print-cutting for both paper stainers and calico printers alongside his manufactory on Fleet Street, suggesting that this aspect of the trade could be carried out independently. Woodcock had been apprenticed to a pattern drawer and worked as a print cutter for many years, so perhaps this reputation gave him both design and commercial advantages.16

The organisation of the paper hangings trade It has always been presumed that the earliest suppliers of paper hangings were stationers, who were gradually replaced by specialist paper hangings manufacturers. The model that emerges from study of who was making, selling and hanging paper in eighteenth-century Britain is, however, rather different and far more complex. In reality there were three groups involved in the wallpaper trade. First, there were those connected with the supply of paper and printing, including stationers, book and print sellers, and newsmen. Some involved in the world of paper and print seized the opportunities offered by wallpaper: in 1728 John Cliff put an advertisement in the Daily Journal to the effect that, the lottery being closed, he was now selling stationery goods and paper hangings for rooms – plain, coloured and flocked.17 Book- and print-sellers were also amongst early retailers in the 1740s and 1750s. For example, opposite the Quaker burial ground near the Bell dock in Wapping in 1759 customers could borrow books, learn Latin and French and buy paper hangings ‘put up neat and cheap’.18 However, stationers were by far the most prominent trade in this group; not only did they continue their traditional role of supplying papers and ink, but moved into selling wallpapers. One example was William Ridgway, trading at the White Bear at the corner of Warwick Court, Holborn, who by 1755 was not just selling account books and stationary, but also the ‘newest Fashion Figured Paper for Hanging Rooms’.19 In practice, however, the boundaries between the two trades and their two companies – the stationers and the paper stainers – became blurred over the course of the century. The partnership of Gough and Moore on Great Bell Alley and Aldgate

A contested trade 41 Without is a case in point. William Moore was a stationer and paper stainer who was freed from his Stationers’ Company apprenticeship in 1786 and went into partnership with a fellow apprentice and paper stainer, Thomas Gough. By 1793 William was running the business alone, evidently specialising in paper staining with two apprentices, James Beadle and Charles Clarke.20 This pattern is repeated in others’ records, suggesting that an apprenticeship to a paper stainer was one of the key ways to move into this growing trade. A second, newer, group who specialised in the manufacture and supply of paper hangings, and frequently too papier mâché, included paper hangings manufacturers and also, as the century progressed, specialist paper hangers. The term ‘dealer in paper hangings’ was used early in the century and seems to equate with a paper hangings warehouse owner. Aldermanbury was an early centre of the trade, including the warehouses of Dunbar, Price (the Blue Paper Warehouse) and Colburne.21 Robert Dunbar was described at his death in 1744 as ‘the greatest Dealer in Paper Hangings in England that brought that Branch of Trade to the highest Perfection’.22 Colburne (d. 1743) evidently did not quite equal Dunbar’s perfection, since he was described as ‘one of the most considerable Dealers in Paper-Hangings in England’.23 The term ‘dealer’ was still in use in 1777, when it was applied to William Roberts (d.1777), who made and sold a wide range of papers and patterns from his warehouse on St Albans Street, Pall Mall.24 The most prominent wallpaper manufacturer who was a member of the PainterStainers’ Company was Thomas Bromwich (active 1729–d.1787); by 1760 he was Upper Warden and in the following year he became Master of the Company and was appointed ‘paper-hanging Maker in Ordinary to the Great Wardrobe’.25 How did he achieve this success? One part of the answer was through family and business networks; Borg presumes he was a relative, perhaps the son, of George Bromwich, who was listed in 1674 as a liveryman of the company and Arms Painter. Rosoman also suggests that Bromwich may have been associated with William Bromwich, recorded as a bookseller on Ludgate Street before 1740.26 Another early business network that Bromwich made use of was that already established by the gilt leather makers around Ludgate Hill. His trade card of c.1748 advertised that he ‘Makes and Sells all manner of Screens, Window Blinds, and Covers for Tables, Cabins, Stair-Cases, & c. Hung with Guilt Leather, or India Pictures’ and this business evidently included covering fire-screens too (Figure 1.4). Bromwich also had links to the textiles trade; the eight apprentices he took on between 1745 and 1763 included not only his own son, William, but John Morgan, son of a weaver, and Hewitt Squibb, son of a Westminster upholsterer.27 A third and final group of artisans involved in wallpaper’s manufacture, sale and hanging were those who were already supplying other aspects of furnishing the interior. Included in this group were upholders [upholsterers], cabinet-makers and other trades involved in house decoration. For example, Charles Ouvry, a paper stainer in Bethnall Green, was a member of the Joiners and Ceilers Company, which has been associated with Birch & Overy (c.1784–98), paper hanging manufacturers on Fleet Street. However, he was unusual, since from the 1770s paper hangings appear most frequently in the stock in trade of cabinet-makers and upholders.28 Upholders went beyond our idea of an upholsterer today, concerned only with the covering of seat furniture or bedding, to encompass the printing of pattern books and the design of products for furnishing the home as well as their supply and installation. It may be that the range of patterns available by the 1780s brought the upholder’s

42  A contested trade role to prominence, one who could, in Cornforth’s words, ‘dictate to an uncertain client’.29 Edwards has a more measured view, describing the upholsterer’s dual role as both an arbiter of taste, and also one who needed to respond to his customers’ requirements.30 More modest firms, such as J. Guichard, an upholsterer on Great Marlborough Street, asked larger concerns such as Trollope’s for assistance when measuring up or selecting wallpapers for their clients.31 Not everyone viewed this positively. Describing the relationship between the upholder and female consumers Daniel Defoe declared: ‘the upholder . . . draws the gay ladies to such an excess of folly, that they must have their house new furnished every year’.32 However, Craske has argued that the period was also characterised by ‘a cultural dialect’ between a narrow elite made up of consumers on the one hand, and prominent retailers and tradesmen on the other, and argues for the reassessment of the expanding role of the upholder in co-ordinating specialised trades including paper hangings. He maintains this was due to the risks associated with the purchase of luxury goods which encouraged consumers to use products ‘which could be recognised by their peers as tasteful’.33 Is there evidence of this in paper hangings? The key role the upholder played in executing the decoration of the interior is evidenced by examples of Chippendale’s work. Chippendale could design a wallpaper and organise its production, as well as supply off the peg designs or send his men out to a nearby town to buy supplies of paper, although the firm did not manufacture paper themselves, a task which they presumably sub-contracted. Another firm of upholders, Crompton & Spinnage (fl.c.1753–c.1790), advertised that they manufactured and sold Paper Hangings both ‘for Home Trade’ and export, including ‘papier machée ornaments’, ‘fine India Paper’ as well as painted floor cloths and Axminster carpets and that they could carry out ‘All sorts of Work perform’d in the Upholdery & Cabinet way’. Just as gilt leather hangings manufacture and installation offered skills transferable to paper hangings, so too did Crompton and Spinnage’s skills in making and fitting floor coverings. William Crompton owned a Knightsbridge ‘manufactory’ for floor cloths, made in summer when they could dry easily. As wallpapers were made over the winter ready to meet demand for hanging in the warmer and drier spring and summer months, these two seasonal activities would have dovetailed.34 Both Chippendale and Crompton & Spinnage could also supply the skilled labour necessary for a successful hang, suggesting, as discussed below, its importance to consumers who were prepared to pay heavily to ensure the correct installation of complex schemes. Close links between leading upholders and paper hanging manufacturers were also key to the latter’s success, and this trend is again reflected in the family and business networks of Thomas Bromwich. It is tempting to identify Bromwich as a supplier to Chippendale, but there is no direct evidence of this, although whoever supplied Chippendale evidently offered a matching service in relation to painted furniture, and Bromwich’s provided this for textiles so presumably had the skills to match other materials, too. Bromwich is linked with two other prominent firms, William Hallett Senior (c.1707–d.1767) and William Linnell (c.1703–d.1763), for both of whom he supplied and hung India pictures and papers in the 1750s.35 Bromwich’s also made other, more direct, connections with the decorating trade, remaining at the same address, ‘The Golden Lyon’ on Ludgate Hill, through no less than three partnerships, first with Leonard Leigh (d.1765) as Bromwich & Leigh, second with Benjamin Bradley and Henry Isherwood (d.1812) as Bromwich, Isherwood and Bradley. Although Bromwich has been prioritised by wallpaper

A contested trade 43 historians as the key driver in this partnership, Isherwood also brought skills in decoration. The son of a Lancashire blacksmith, Henry Isherwood (died 1812) was a distiller and house decorator, and may have been the Mr Isherwood who married Bromwich’s daughter in 1766.36 Of Henry’s six apprentices four styled themselves paper stainers, including two relatives, Nicholas Isherwood and Matthew Bloxham, and Thomas Pinden who came from the same district in Lancashire where Henry had originated. By 1788 Isherwood and Bradley, styling themselves ‘Late Partners with Mr. Bromwich’, had prioritised paper hanging on their trade card, marking their ability to meet new demands in hanging and the currency of their own name.37 The firm’s sustained success was based on a complex mix of kinship, building site and a well-developed network in related trades. The solution for smaller firms and individuals was, increasingly, to specialise. James Duppa (apprenticed 1782, died 1846) listed himself variously as a paper hanger, paper stainer and stationer at the time he was bound in 1782, with premises on Old Broad Street by 1790, and later Lombard Street. By 1793 he was styling himself as a paper hanger with a paper hanging warehouse, suggesting that he specialised in the retailing and hanging of papers rather than any involvement with manufacture.38

Figure 2.1  Benjamin Moore (active 1750s–60s), embossed paper, stencilled in pink, mauve and turquoise, printed in gilt and lettered along lower edge ‘B. Moore Newgate Street LONDON 1763’.

44  A contested trade Another effect of this contested trade was the need to associate a firm’s name with its products, and one way to achieve this was to mark papers. As Clifford has pointed out in relation to another new and contested trade, Sheffield plate, marks served not only to impose quality, but could also give objects additional meanings by associating them with names, places and ideas.39 One key idea in paper hangings was that attached to technical innovation, for example ‘Moore’s’ may be associated with Benjamin Moore, who, according to Sugden and Edmondson, was awarded a premium from the Society of Arts for introducing the manufacture of embossed paper to England. His name and the date 1763 appear on a single sheet whose white outlines and lettering are embossed, suggesting a wish to associate his name with this innovation (Figure 2.1).40 Towards the end of the century it became more common to stamp articles with the supplier’s mark. Eckhardts’ (traded c.1786–96) were at the forefront of this development, since they claimed that ‘Every article painted or printed by them, will be stamped with the Mark of the Manufactory’, although no actual examples have been traced.41 It may therefore be significant that Harwood & Co., who took over Eckhardts’ original Chelsea site, are known to have stamped their goods.42 Other manufacturers sought the cachet of pattern names, and for leading manufacturers these frequently evoked aristocratic patrons. In September 1738 the Earl of Richmond wrote to Dunbar’s about papers for his country house, Goodwood in Sussex: I desire you would let William Manning my porter have a couple of patterns of two or three yards of each pattern, of a new paper my Lord Pembroke tells me of, with a yellow ground & the flowers of two different blews also a Pattern of the same that My Lady Torrington has lately had of you & of one or two more of your newest sorts, pack them up well for they must be sent by this next Fryday’s carrier.43 Richmond had evidently discussed his choice of pattern with both male and female friends, who had presumably recommended Dunbar. This reflected a wider practice, calling on knowledgeable friends and family to ascertain their preferences for goods and suppliers.44 In turn, Dunbar inscribed the letter with client’s names against pattern numbers: ‘No 1 is Lady Torrington/No 5 & 6 E. [Earl] Pembroke/No 12 Sr Wm Stanhope & Comy’, presumably referring to the patterns he dispatched so that the Earl could distinguish them. For both manufacturer and consumer, then, names carried a cultural value, a value which endured when so-called bespoke schemes were reproduced again from the same blocks. Names seem to have been thought especially necessary for certain types of paper, including flocks (which, as will be discussed in Chapter 4, had fewer patterns than printed papers) and sprigs and chintzes.45 Small scale designs consisting of repeating sprigs were one of the most frequently reproduced printed patterns, so names which combined a visual reference with one to a site or individual may have given the manufacturer a commercial edge, and the consumer an endorsement, as in the ‘Yarmouth sprig’ supplied by Chippendale to Sir Edward Knatchbull at to Mersham-Le-Hatch in Kent in 1769. Nor was this practice exclusively for grand spaces in the home, since even more modest papers were identified by Chippendale in this way; for example, the housekeeper’s room at Lady Elizabeth Heathcote’s (d.1813) London house on Brook Street was hung with ‘Suffolk’ paper and a ‘Waldgrave’ border.46

A contested trade 45

Mapping supply The diversity of the trade makes mapping suppliers problematic, however, it is possible to infer some conclusions about the spread of paper hangings. Despite growth in the regional trade, of which more below, manufacture remained predominantly London-based during the eighteenth century. In 1763 Thomas Mortimer included just ten London paper hanging makers in The Universal Director. Many of these were still prominent suppliers later in the century, including Bromwich, William Squire (traded c.1760–86), and ‘Spinage and Compton’ (presumably Crompton & Spinnage).47 What is more Mortimer goes on to explain that they were mostly, if not all, also makers of papier mâché ornaments ‘for Looking Glass and Picture Frames, &c.’ suggesting this product was as important as wallpaper to manufacturers’ income.48 Directory entries can also help to map the changes in supply in London over the next three decades. In c.1774 a list of London ‘Merchants, Principal Tradesmen etc’ gave seventeen names involved in the trade, either as paper hanging makers or paper stainers.49 Those engaged exclusively in paper hangings manufacture included four firms from Mortimer’s 1764 list. However, the simple category of ‘paper hanging manufacturer’ had been replaced by a range of different titles for those involved with the manufacture, sale and hanging of papers. Two firms combined paper hanging manufacture with the business of a stationer, including Armitage and Roper on Bishopsgate, and a further two with that of the upholder. Although a number involved in the early establishment of the trade were still active, Squires was now specialising in hanging paper and the separate references to Crompton’s, and to Spinnage and Hodgson’s, suggest that earlier partnerships were being dissolved and replaced by a number of separate businesses. Moreover, two firms (Wheeley’s and William Grant) styled themselves paper staining and/or ‘paper hang.’ warehouses, implying that there was now sufficient demand for papers to support the specialist retailer. By 1784 Bailey’s London Directory listed only eight names involved in the trade, either as a Paper Hanging Manufactory, Paper Stainer, or a Paper Hanging-maker. Half the manufacturers were also stationers, including established names such as Moore’s on Aldgate. This supports the argument that those whose business was reliant solely on the income from paper hangings manufacture (such as Abraham Hall) or paper staining (J.B. Brooks of Great Queen Street is amongst those listed) alone were again in a minority.50 By 1793 the numbers involved in the London trade had expanded again to thirty-eight. What is significant here is the extent of specialisation reflected in the entries. Twenty-eight ‘Paper Hangers, Stainers and Manufactures’ were further subdivided into the three categories. Eleven manufacturers included established firms such as Crompton’s and Isherwood & Bradley: however, many are new names. A second category, ‘Stationers and Paper-Hangers’, listed only ten names out of over 120 who were paper-hangers as well as stationers.51 This does indicate a decline in the role of stationers in supplying wallpapers. It is clear, however, that by the end of the century the making and retailing of wallpaper in London is becoming socially and geographically more fragmented. Paper hanging manufacture and sale was concentrated in the streets emanating from St Paul’s churchyard, the traditional centre of the book trade and of cabinet-makers and upholsterers. Tradesmen are operating to the north on Newgate Street and neighbouring streets, to the west on Ludgate Hill (near Stationers Hall) and Fleet Street, and had moved east onto Cheapside, The Poultry and onto Lombard Street. However, other

46  A contested trade centres had emerged, notably around St. James’s Square, off Piccadilly, and in Soho. By the 1790s the streets in and around Hanover Square were also providing sites for warehouse owners and paper hangers. It is tempting to see in these concentrations the advantages of co-location around the exchange of skills and materials with other trades, an area which merits further study. However, some stationers were moving nearer the banks of the Thames. John Kingsbury, a stationer and print seller off Tooley Street in Southwark, advertised a ‘Great Variety of Paper Hangings’, alongside stationery and prints. Kingsbury’s signalling of his clientele as ‘Merchants, Captains, or Traders’ suggests the commercial appeal of his site on the south bank of the Thames which was well placed to import as well as export papers.52

Regulation and pricing strategies Understanding the place of wallpapers alongside other wall finishes also involves unpicking pricing strategies. The simple statement that wallpaper is cheaper than other materials masks a variety of pricing structures according to supplier and context, and whether sold from stock or installed. It is, however, possible to identify the mechanisms which impacted on the cost to consumers, and the first of these was taxation. The start of regulation in 1712 evidences that, even at this early date, the trade was seen as a source of revenue and on a sufficient scale to warrant regulation. The tax on ‘Printed, Painted or Stained’ paper ‘to serve for Hangings and other Uses’ was introduced at 1d. per square yard, over and above the duty paid on the paper before any decoration was applied. In 1714 it was raised to 1½d., which it remained at until 1787 when it was raised again to 1¾d. The decorated paper was stamped with the Royal monogram, the entwined initials ‘GR’ and the word ‘PAPER’ followed by an identification number. Significantly, models for regulation were taken from textile manufacture. As Dan Cruikshank and Neil Burton have noted, in wallpaper, as in many other spheres of eighteenth-century building activity, taxation exerted a powerful influence on practice, and it is possible that this system was a response to the perceived threat that paper presented to textile hangings, not least on the grounds of price.53 It may also have been a matter of convenience, since the original length of a ‘piece’ corresponded to the length of a piece of woven cloth and, similarly, stained paper was categorised with printed goods such as silks, rather than with paper.54 In 1715 another layer of regulation was added, again taken from the textiles trade: each sheet making up a piece was to be stamped prior to staining ‘with a Stamp or Seal already provided for marking or stamping of Silks, Callicoes, Linens and Stuffs, printed, painted, stained or dyed; thereby to denote that Account had been taken of such Paper’.55 A ‘Growing Duty’ stamp was also sometimes used, indicating that the manufacturing process was complete, and it may also have been applied to the wrappings of rolls of paper.56 However, regulations and officials struggled to keep up with the expanding trade. Indeed, the need to stamp even wrappings suggests that evasion was difficult to prevent. Although the Modern Dictionary was careful to note that ‘considerable penalties’ could be incurred if paper was unstamped, manufacturers’ attempts to evade the tax by pasting extra (uncharged) sheets onto the piece resulted in the introduction of frame marks on each end of the piece, a technique already in use for printed silk taxation (Figure 2.2).57 These identified the date and also the exact dimensions of the length which has been inspected. By 1764 Excise Officers were also being instructed that they must use ‘very likely [i.e. suitable] and legal’ means to discover where rooms had

A contested trade 47

Figure 2.2  ‘Hunting frieze’, printed in black and stencilled in pink, red and two shades of green, English, with frame marks datable to 1794 (originally from Cranford House, Middlesex).

been hung with plain paper and stained or painted afterwards.58 These measures were intended to prevent the pasting up of decorated paper, and indeed colouring it in situ, before their (supposedly) daily visit. In practice, however, it may have encouraged the development of plain papers which lent themselves to colouring once pasted up on the wall.59 Such evasion reflected the considerable costs incurred by taxation; in 1787 it was calculated that for every 100l. in value of ‘Painted Paper, or Paper Hangings for Rooms’ £75 was payable in duty.60 At an early stage this tax was passed on by retailers; in 1740 Abraham Price at the Blue Paper Warehouse in Aldermanbury was still adding ‘½ thousand of tax’ on to a bill, but this practice seems to have been short lived and the cost presumably included in the price.61 Aside from taxation, another driver to price was who was selling the goods and where, although the many different ways of buying paper make comparisons difficult. One obvious difference was between wholesale and retail prices. Birch & Overy recorded two rates per piece against the stock numbers they sent out to John Thomas & Co. in 1784–85, one wholesale and one retail, while in 1786 Woodmason’s were selling their own ‘new invented paper hangings’ at prices from 2½d. to 2 shillings per yard, inviting wholesale orders from stationers, upholsterers and builders.62 Retail prices were of course different. The following year Charles Terry on Fleet Street, who claimed that he was the sole London retailer of Woodmason’s ‘elegant’ and ‘new’ patterns, offered papers ranging in price from 2¼d. to 2/6d. per yard.63 What is interesting is that even

48  A contested trade leading suppliers carried wallpapers at a wide range of price points: Robson, Hale & Hawley (traded c.1790–c.1840) paper hanging manufacturers and successors to John Sigrist (d.1799) on Piccadilly claimed to have 1789’s ‘largest assortment of elegant, cheap and new patterns of paper hangings, from two pence halfpenny to five shillings a yard’.64 Moreover, these prices had not increased significantly from Sigrist’s 1756 advertisement, where stock ranged from 3d. to 5 shillings per yard, perhaps reflecting increased competition.65 Those trading at both ends of the scale often used language such as ‘lowest prices’ but Blands’ stationery and paper hangings warehouse on the Strand claimed in 1768 that theirs were cheaper than any other shop in town. There seems some justification in this since their advertisement listed their prices: flocks were 2 pence farthing a yard, ‘curious coloured’ papers 2½d., ‘fine’ mock flocks 3d. and ‘the best crimson papers’ 3½d.66 Certain firms evidently did have a reputation for being expensive, and Bromwich’s are frequently singled out in letters as charging high prices. The Reverend James Newton of Nuneham Courteney in Oxfordshire recorded in his diary that after buying a ‘large quantity’ of hanging paper from Bromigh [Bromwich’s] to decorate his new parsonage in 1761 he went back ‘to forbid the sending of the Paper thinking Self may buy it cheaper’, but eventually bought twenty-one pieces.67

Preparation and hanging Pricing strategies for paper hangings are also complicated, since bills sometimes give costs per piece and sometimes per yard, or, in the case of borders, per dozen. Costs could also include aspects of preparation and hanging. The control of hanging was an issue from an early date. Robert Dunbar did not leave this to chance, including instructions on his bill head: Please to observe the following Method of putting up the said Hangings in any Room, Viz. FIRST, Cut one Edge of each Piece or Breadth, even to the Work, then nail it with large Tacks to the Wall and paste the Edge of the next Breadth over the Heads of the tacks and so from one to another, till the Room be perfectly hung, observing to make ye Flowers Join. NB. Damp the Paper before you put it up, and begin next the Window, and make Stiff Paste of the best Flour and Water.68 Dunbar then advised that after trimming one vertical edge the pre-dampened length was pasted up and nailed into place, the next length overlapping this so hiding the tack heads. His reminder to ensure that ‘ye Flowers join’ also suggests that this was not a given, even by the 1740s, and that mistakes in matching could occur. Another issue was miscalculating the amount of paper needed, and by 1756 John Dean included paper hangings in his examples of trades which could benefit from his worked examples of tasks such as calculating the area of a ceiling.69 Over time, firms took a more active role by including hanging as part of their services, not only seeking this lucrative source of additional income but perhaps too reflecting the need for skills which went beyond Dunbar’s instructions. This change was reflected in bills which itemised the costs in detail for each room, breaking down materials and also men’s time, including for preparation. This allowed consumers to see exactly where costs had been incurred, but, by foregrounding hitherto concealed aspects of materials and skills, also enabled firms to gain ground in offering a complete

A contested trade 49 service. Every item of preparation and finish was charged, from the paste, to scraps of brown paper which were used to cover tack heads to prevent them disfiguring the pattern. Nailing up paper was a time consuming business. Joseph Smith listed ‘2000 of Tacks, to Put up the Old Hangings & the Paper’ alongside the costs of hanging, paste and sizing the wall. His pricing was per piece for all these activities, so hanging each piece cost 1s.70 Some thirty years later in 1788 Joseph Knight, the successor to Masefield’s paper manufactory and warehouse on the Strand, was charging 1/6d. for hanging per piece in a back parlour, a price which included ‘paste & c’.71 Like wallpaper itself, hanging costs had risen slowly over this period, perhaps a reflection of increased specialisation in the trade. Other suppliers, notably Bromwich’s, used a rate per yard rather than per piece for work in situ, and although in early accounts the cost of the paper, border and materials was run in with the hanging cost, again over time this was differentiated. Accounts often give two prices, one for the paper and one incorporating the ‘put up’ or hanging charge, itemised by room. As part of extensive work at the Lord and Lady Shelburne’s London house in 1782 Bromwich supplied chintz, sprig and stucco patterns at 4d. per yard which cost another 1½d. per yard to hang. Comparison with other accounts suggest this hanging cost was fairly consistent for the firm. Even in this house there was little difference in the cost of the printed papers hung in family and servants’ bedrooms, while borders were the same price (13d. per yard put up) throughout. Some combinations of colours and patterns were, however, more expensive both to buy and to install. A ‘blues and greens on blossom ground’ in the bedroom of Lord Shelburne’s heir, Lord Fitzmaurice, cost 4½d. with a put up price of 6d., the same as for the yellow ground chintz hung in the nursery occupied by Henry, his son by his second wife. Yellow grounds were evidently more expensive, as was the blues/green pattern whose ‘blossom’ ground may indicate that it was shaded. Other ground colours cost less: buff and straw grounds were ½d. cheaper, regardless of their pattern – whether chintz or stucco – while stone grounds were cheaper still.72 No records of stripes appear in the Bromwich accounts for the Shelburnes, although a sample appears in the archives. Stripes, involving greater skill both in manufacture and hanging, were priced accordingly. In work for Lord and Lady Coventry at Croome Court in Worcestershire in the previous year, 1781, Bromwich charged 6½d. for a blue stripe paper, and the put up charge was almost double that at 11d. per yard.73 It has also been argued that over the century wallpaper hung on stretched linen or canvas, following the model of textiles, was superseded by pasting directly onto the wall or a paper support. It is more likely, however, that, as Rowena Beighton-Dykes has suggested, different methods were employed in different locations, or favoured by certain tradesmen.74 When Thomas Bromwich billed Mr Bennett for work done at his London house in 1749 in Bennett’s back and front rooms, stair and two closets, only the stair was not lined with linen or cloth prior to hanging, perhaps because stretching lengths of textile presented practical difficulties in this tall, narrow space.75 Even in grand houses economies were made where they would not be noticed. Bromwich’s re-used paper in an attic storey bedroom at the Shelburnes’ London house which the firm still charged the standard rate, 1½d., to put up. Lining paper was seemingly only used where absolutely necessary, and even when using brown paper at 2d. per yard, this was put under part of a scheme rather than hung all around the walls. Only in the closets did the Shelburnes splash out on new ‘blue cartouch’ paper.76 What complicated hanging schemes did mean is that skilled paper hangers were in increasing demand. This is reflected in the wages of journeymen paper hangers by the

50  A contested trade end of the century, whose case was put in The Observer of 8 May 1796. Journeymen were paid 1 shilling per piece according to ‘quality’, presumably a reference to the nature of the pattern, but did not charge for hanging borders under a certain price. It was this latter practice that they were seeking to reform, leading the writer to The Observer to point out that in an average of nine months employment (over spring and summer) a journeyman might earn an average of 15 shillings per day, sometimes up to 18 or 19 shillings, more than the wages of a Lieutenant-Colonel (who, the writer noted, also had the cost of his commission).77 Hanging was not, however, without its hazards. In 1794 Queen Charlotte visited Frogmore House, which she had purchased in 1790 and which was being refurbished by James Wyatt (1746–1813). This process was evidently nearing the end, as wallpaper was in the process of being hung, since she recorded that ‘we found that the Paper Hanger had Fallen with the Ledder & was much hurt’.78 There were other hazards too for paper hangers, and one of these was the persistent enemy of damp walls. In September 1797 an agent wrote to Trollope’s saying that his client did not intend to have any papering done this year as some of walls were not yet dry, but on 18 December another client, Mrs Parks, wrote with a sample of the wallpaper she wanted papered on her staircase and back parlour by Christmas Day as she thought ‘the walls sufficiently dry’.79

Trading networks The London businesses described above supplied a geographically diverse trade from a metropolitan base. By the 1780s the supply of patterns by post was an accepted part of business and a way of disseminating the fashionable and the new. Trollope’s supplied a wide network of clients from Westminster, frequently dispatching samples of papers and borders, either to repair schemes or supply new ones. This sample service also enabled clients to in turn send back pieces of their chosen design with an order, avoiding mistakes about patterns and prices. For example, in August 1797 a letter arrived from The Vyne, Hampshire: Mr Chute desires Mr Trollope, will send him 56 Yards of bordering like the widest pattern inclosed, which is two pence a yard and likewise 140 Yards of the Bead Border like the narrow one inclosed of a penny a Yard.80 Although the trade has been characterised as largely carried on by male tradesmen and focused on London, more nuanced analysis suggests alternative readings. First, there is the role of wider family networks. Male relatives could not only join as apprentices, they could also offer funds to start in trade in the first place. Moses Staples (fl. 1770s) remembered his brother, Roger, in his will. Roger had advanced Moses ‘sundry sums of money to a considerable amount for and towards me setting up in trade without taking any security’, a trade which had evidently flourished as he was able to leave his sister-in-law, Elizabeth Staples, 100 guineas for a diamond ring (Figure 2.3).81 It is tempting to infer that Elizabeth may also have had a more active hand in the firm’s success. Pat Kirkham’s study of the London furniture making trade found that women were concentrated in the upholstery trades, and within that in supervisory and entrepreneurial activities.82 Edwards has also pointed out that in the upholstery trade women could be principals in a business, either in their own right or as successors to their husbands, or as daughters.83

A contested trade 51

Figure 2.3  Trade card for Moses Staples (d.1778), stationer on Lombard Street, London, printed engraving, c.1773.

Is there evidence of these trends in the wallpaper trade? Wives were often left their husband’s stock in trade; for example, Richard Masefield (fl. 1763–d.1787) left all the work belonging to his trade to his wife Sarah, perhaps so she could carry it on for, or with, his male relative, Thomas.84 However, widows could also seize the opportunity to create new partnerships, and these could threaten established family businesses. When William Crompton of Crompton & Spinnage died in 1760 the business was carried on by his brother, Benjamin. However, William’s widow also carried on in the trade with a partner Mr Hodges [or Hodgson]. They must have attracted business away from Crompton & Spinnage, who in 1765 found it necessary to place an advertisement to ‘prevent mistakes’ and explain that they continued to trade on Cockspur Street and had no connection with Mrs Crompton and her partner Mr Hodges.85 When Benjamin Crompton died, it was his widow, Joyce, who became the proprietor of the business at Cockspur Street, dying aged eighty-five in 1799.86 Names and sites therefore had commercial currency and, just as family networks could support this, they could also threaten it. It is also worth noting that some women were also operating independently and not necessarily as successors to their husbands; for example, Jane Pring was an established Exeter retailer of maps, prints and paper hangings.87 As well as family networks, there is the question of the reputation of London-based businesses and a regional trade with links to London makers.88 Indeed, supplying ‘country dealers’ may have been as important as city wholesalers.89 Philippa Mapes has shown that manufacturers set up regional businesses to cash in on demand. For example, Davenport’s on Pall Mall was manufacturing regionally as early as 1748 and had businesses in both

52  A contested trade

Figure 2.4  Card advertising sales of paper hangings alongside the newspaper The Exeter Flying Post, printed engraving, c.1800.

Newcastle and York, whilst by 1783 Paul’s had a warehouse in Manchester and links to Chester, Liverpool and Birmingham, having seemingly abandoned their London base, relying on an agent in the capital. As Mapes has argued, paper staining on a small scale could be a temporary, seasonal occupation, so regional paper stainers needed to combine this trade with another, steadier income stream, as did Joseph Hunt of Exeter, described in 1783 as a paper manufacturer and druggist.90 My study of a group of trade cards surviving from eighteenth-century Devon suggests there is also evidence of divisions in the trade similar to those shown in London. In the small market town of Tiverton wallpapers were supplied by stationers and booksellers, so consumers could purchase these locally; in 1759 the bookseller, Matthew Hodge (1726–75), advertised ‘a great Variety’ of paper hangings priced from 3 to 10 shillings per Piece, ‘of the newest Patterns’, suggesting he carried papers across a wide price range.91 There is some evidence that not all of this trade was controlled by stationers or booksellers, but through sales in cities such as Exeter, since a card advertised sales at the city’s newspaper, The Exeter Flying Post

A contested trade 53 (Figure 2.4). In the city, however, it was upholsterers and cabinet makers such as S. Porter who claimed metropolitan associations, advertising ‘Superior London Paper Hangings, Prints & c’.92 This emphasis on close links with the London trade was reflected in other towns and cities by the 1770s. Indeed, as with other goods, the cachet of papers new arrived from London remained a by-line for upholsterers from Bath to Ipswich, suggesting that geographical distribution was shaping consumer choice. Wallpaper was also in circulation outside the decorating trade, in auction sales. ‘Parcels of paper hangings’ appear from the 1750s, but demand and supply evidently grew so that by the 1760s sales particulars start to refer to numbers of pieces, sometimes up to several hundred. Wallpaper also quickly came to the notice of pawnbrokers. For example, in 1758 Clemens & Co, whose warehouse was on the south side of St Paul’s churchyard, offered ‘several dozen pieces of paper Hangings at Two-pence Halfpenny a Yard’.93 Clemens’ inclusion of the quantity and, more unusually, the price, suggests that these were the key markers for those seeking decorating materials outside of the established trade. The need to hold large quantities of stock and read consumers’ tastes may also have meant that financial ruin was more common: when the stock of the Salisbury upholder Lall Goodfellow was put up for auction in December, 1773, following his bankruptcy, it included no less that ‘500 Pieces of Paper Hangings’, perhaps a volume of papers a firm outside London could not afford to keep in stock due to rapid changes in demand for certain patterns and colours.94

Retailing and viewing paper hangings Quantity was one thing, but the first and most obvious need in selling paper hangings was how to show patterns, especially large scale ones, to advantage. The high cost of sample books may explain their rarity: I have traced none for this period. Advertising in newspapers and through trade card and bill heads was therefore of key importance, as shown in Matthew Darly’s design (Figure 1.6). If images were not included, then trade cards could list pattern types from Chinese to Gothic and Modern as well as the sites that were suitable for them to hang. Patterns were also available to view in retail shops. Some leading supplier’s bills indicate that quantities were ordered at the London premises; these do not include hanging. These purchases reflect what Jon Stobart has identified as the elite’s tendency to either order direct from London suppliers, or to buy in person when in town for the season.95 Analysis of imagery of trade cards allows some insights into how this process was framed to consumers. The Blue Paper Warehouse trade card of c.1720 depicts large and well stocked premises (Figure 1.3).96 The façade is depicted literally festooned with paper on a fine day; shutters are open in order to show both large scale flocks and floral sprigs to advantage, a pilaster is hung with a flame stitch pattern and lengths with scrollwork patterns are depicted hung over window ledges and unfurling in a niche at top right. The elaborate interior with its pillars and arches, the end wall hung with paper and an elaborately framed looking glass, reflects what Claire Walsh has identified as an attempt to echo the grand architectural gestures of both wealthy private homes and lavish public interiors, and thereby attract the right level of customer.97 Saumarez Smith has suggested the male figure at the entrance depicts Abraham Price, owner of the warehouse, although there is no precise evidence for this.98 The consumers depicted inside the warehouse are both female, shown handling lengths of paper implying that this (female) pleasure has not just a visual, but also a textural dimension. However, male and female consumption is also represented

54  A contested trade

Figure 2.5  Trade card for James Wheeley’s (active 1754–1818) paper hanging warehouse on Aldersgate Street, London, printed engraving, c.1754.

by the fashionably dressed couple, to whom the tradesman’s gaze and gesture is directed, who occupy a space outside the warehouse which they are promenading past. The c.1754 trade card for James Wheeley’s (active 1754–1818) paper hanging warehouse depicts just one side of a shop interior, where racks are stocked with rolls of finished paper (Figure 2.5). These serve to emphasise both the quantity and variety of choice and what Walsh has identified as a key skill in eighteenth-century retailing, good supply contacts.99 The image focuses on the space in which consumption is enacted, where a shopman is unfurling a ‘piece’ in a chintz design in front of a fashionably dressed couple and their daughter or female servant, an example of the ‘emboss’d chints’ singled out in the text. This ‘unfurling’ device is seen in other trade card designs, and in those for floor cloths.100 A figure who may be the warehouse owner points towards the piece but directs his gaze towards both clients. Male and female are depicted as engaged in dialogue, but a dialogue where the male consumer repeats the warehouseman’s gesture. On the one hand the female consumer is depicted as a passive object of display, quite literally clothed in chintz, since the print on the wallpaper is seen in a smaller scale on her robe. This could be seen as designed to appeal to the female viewer’s desire for beauty and fashionability in choice of decoration as in dress.

A contested trade 55 This reading does, however, indicate some differences to the actual practice described by Lady Hertford, Fanny Boscawen and other women, who characterise themselves as discriminating consumers, actively participating in the decoration of the domestic interior as an extension of their control of the household.101

Figure 2.6  Handbill for (Richard) Masefield’s (fl.1763–d.1787) manufactory in the Strand, London, printed engraving, 1760s.

56  A contested trade The focus on consumer choice and the role of the tradesman in this process, especially the act of ‘unfurling’, also reinforces Christine Velut’s claim in relation to the French trade that ‘the choice of pattern became an intrinsic part of the pleasure of shopping, especially when to the traditional examination of rolls of wallpaper off shelves or from sample-books were added ingenious and persuasive techniques of the more imaginative shopkeepers’.102 Shop keepers were evidently engaged in a dialogue with consumers in both this trade card and Masefield’s handbill of the 1760s for his ‘manufactory’ of ‘Mock India Paper Hanging’ and ‘Papier Macheé’ on the Strand (Figure 2.6). Like Price’s card, the latter depicts an elaborate architectural interior.103 Floor to ceiling racks of finished rolls face a wall hung with papier mâché ornaments, whilst beyond the arch more racks adjoin a dressed window, allowing goods to be examined in daylight even at the back of the shop. Nor is there any sign of the manufacturing processes that, as the text states, were taking place on the same site. Rather, the emphasis is on consumer choice. Two female consumers in the foreground are seen taking an active role in the process: their gaze is directed towards each other, one gesturing decisively towards a length of chintz wallpaper, whilst discarded rolls lie on the floor, reinforcing the nature of this space as a site of feminine choices alluded to in Lady Hertford’s letter (see Introduction). Unlike the selection methods depicted on the Wheeley trade card, male participation in this process is, the image suggests, limited. The male consumer is literally and figuratively in the background of the interior, whilst the male assistant’s role is to offer choices on which female consumers will pronounce judgement. What these trade cards do illustrate, as in the eighteenth-century French examples studied by Scott, is a desire to evoke ‘beyond the purchases themselves the event, the exchange that transformed them into personal possessions. In that sense the cardinvoice functioned not just as a record but as a “souvenir” in the English sense of the word’. Scott further argues that such elaborately decorated cards are a phenomenon of the luxury trades, including the fashion industry ‘where shopping had developed into a leisure activity and shops into theatres of consumption’.104 That is the activity these images model, rather than the aspects of production included on Price’s card or the symbol used as a shop sign and recognisable address, such as Bromwich’s choice of a lion and Darly’s of an acorn (Figures 1.4 and 1.6). It is, however, also worth noting the role of male consumers, who are depicted in all three of these cards. Indeed, although Walsh notes that in the eighteenth century shopping was perceived as a feminised activity in terms of both physical space and as a social and cultural activity, ‘some feminised retail spaces’ may have been viewed as opportunities for heterosexual sociability.105 The examples discussed in this section suggest that the paper hangings warehouse was one such space, a view which is reinforced by Vickery’s study of Trollope’s correspondence, which concludes that, in contrast to later nineteenth-century practices, women and men shared a common aesthetic vocabulary and women expected some say in the purchase of decorative schemes.106 By the end of the century there were further innovations in the environment in which wallpaper could be displayed. No longer did consumers simply visit a warehouse to pick out a pattern from stock; rather they were offered the opportunity to view products in room settings. The printed booklet which promoted Eckhardts’ ‘Royal Patent Manufactory of painted Silk, Varnished-Linen, Cloth, Paper’ outlined the rooms’ function:

A contested trade 57 That the Public in general may form some Judgement themselves of many modes of disposing of the different articles mentioned Messr Eckhardts and Co have opened A SET OF ROOMS, at No.8, Old Bond Street fitted up In a Variety of Forms where the Effect may at once be seen; and which, from the Novelty of their Manufactory, they think necessary. This evidence implied that it was the ‘novelty’ of the firm’s products that necessitated the need for a showroom, and that developing the ability to choose from what a manufacturer deemed new and fashionable was an essential part of being able to exercise taste. Admission was also controlled. The showroom was open from 10am to 3pm, but tickets were issued ‘in order to render the Exhibition as convenient as possible to the Nobility and Gentry’. In addition, the booklet stated that after 3pm ‘attendance can alone be given to particular orders’. Eckhardts’ therefore attempted to control access to these spaces, and here they were not alone, for in c.1803 Buzzards (founded by Edward Canon in 1774) on High Holborn advertised their ‘Manufactory And Exhibition Rooms For Paper Hangings Looking Glasses Candelabras & c’.107 However, it was not just through showroom visits that Eckhardts’ sought to identify themselves with their products; this firm also allowed consumer access to their premises in Chelsea where manufacturing took place. Sarah Harriet Burney, half-sister of the novelist Frances (Fanny) Burney, described a visit that she made with family friends in 1792: I went about ten days ago to see Mr. Eckardts manufactory with the Farquhars; he gave us tickets to go to Lord Dovers for whom he has been fitting up two rooms. I never saw any thing so beautiful as the paintings, & ornaments are. We saw all the children at work, & while we were in their room, an engine was playing which changed the air in five minutes, & entirely carried off the smell of the paint, which might else be very prejudicial to them. This contrivance keeps them all in health, & they really look quite fresh, & strong. Such a visit involved viewing both finished products and hand painting processes, thereby reinforcing these products’ associations with high art, as well as the firm’s apparent care of its workers. It also brought an opportunity to obtain access to rooms recently decorated for clients, in this case Baron Dover’s house on Hill Street, Mayfair.108

Consumption in town and country As noted in the Introduction, wallpaper is often associated with the country house, and, as will be explored below, this was an important site for flocks and Chinese wallpapers in particular. However, it was not only manufacture that was centred on London; consumer demand came firstly from here too. There was a boom in speculative housing in the city in the 1720s–40s and the description of the fitting out of three town houses in William Halfpenny’s The Modern Builder’s Assistant of 1757 shows that the use of wallpaper on two storeys of London houses was by then well established. Although ‘plain Wainscot’ was to be installed in the ground floor rooms, and the garrets and offices below plastered, Halfpenny recommended that ‘The Chamber and Attick to be wainscotted 3 Feet 6 Inches high for Paper Hangings, with plain Plaister Cornices’.109

58  A contested trade Demand for decoration came in part from the expanding rental market, since accommodation was needed for quite wealthy people who rented a furnished house for the season, both in London and in resort towns such as Bath. A guide to landlords from 1786 included a sample tenancy agreement explicitly stating that tenants ‘will then leave on the said premises, for the use of the land-lord, the paper-hangings in the chambers’. Such decoration was evidently not only sufficiently widespread to merit inclusion, but also likely to be a cause of disputes.110 Between the 1750s and 1780s wallpapers became visible as part of the interior components in advertisements for London house sales and rental, listed alongside marble chimneypieces and carved mouldings. They were part of lexicon of materials intended to signify quality and fashionability in fitting out, or, in the case of a new built brick terrace of nine houses in Whitechapel offered for sale in 1774 ‘genteely fitted up with Dado, Paper Hangings, rich Cornishes & c’.111 New built brick houses and paper hangings were a familiar combination, implying walls could easily be plastered for hanging without the need of more costly lining processes and preparation. References to paper hangings are found more frequently in sale descriptions for houses with two, or sometimes three, rooms on each floor, suggesting that it was this slice of the market where prospective tenants or purchasers would be swayed by such materials. Some commercial premises even mention paper hangings, such as Macklin’s Coffee House in Covent Garden, offered for sale in 1755 ‘with all the Paper Hangings, Water Closets, and other Fixtures’.112 Much grander houses could also include references to paper: in 1764 the Earl of Charterville’s mansion on Dover Street near Piccadilly with eight rooms on a floor and no less than ‘two grand staircases’ was sold with fixtures including the paper hangings.113 By 1786 paper hangings were either being excepted from sale or purchasers were told they ‘may have the choice of their own paper hangings’, evidence that buyers or tenants were exercising their own choice and were not prepared to readily accept that of another owner or landlord. However, in the succeeding chapters I also examine houses further down the social scale and outside London, alongside the country house and grand London house. Although more work remains to be done on these they were already significant sites for wallpapers in the eighteenth century, ahead of the spread of machine printed wallpapers. As we will see paper hangings could be by turn signifiers of luxury, politeness and gentility, but they could also signify modernity and fashionability. For example, a new built generously sized brick house in Sydenham, Kent, consisting of hall, dining room and breakfast parlour, drawing room, housekeepers room, and a ‘genteel’ staircase leading to five ‘good’ bedchambers was fitted up with serpentine marble chimneypieces, paper hangings and stucco cornices, whereas in the more remote market town of Hadleigh in Suffolk paper hangings were signifiers of modernity of a different kind, listed alongside a bath stove and smoke jack.114 The wallpaper trade grew out of existing trades handling paper, textiles and leather but the material’s spread across Britain is not explained simply by its ability to imitate fashionable materials more cheaply and quickly than other forms of decoration. Rather, it was reliant on the development of a complex network of craftsmen and artisans who had the skills and specialist equipment to transform its base materials into marketable products. The broad range of activities which ‘paper hangings’ covered and the wide range of trades it encompassed, from paper hanging makers to stationers and upholders, is also reflected in study of the familial and other networks which underlay its production and the ways in which it can be mapped, processes which with

A contested trade 59 further study may allow comparisons with other decorative trades. Equally, its pricing strategies suggest an industry that was fixed not only on creating demand for its new products but in building in the need for specialist skills in installing these material goods. Finally, it was a trade which was successful in making inroads across town and country, and the ways in which different groups of paper hangings products reflected this will be explored in the succeeding chapters.

Notes 1 Including a series entitled ‘Eighteenth-Century London Paperstainers’ published in the 1950s. Many of the bills are now untraceable; Entwisle told Heal he thought some items purchased by him for the WPM were probably from Hoare’s bank, see letter from The WPM Ltd [E.A. Entwisle] to Sir Ambrose Heal, 28 September 1943, BM, HC, after 91.61. 2 E.A. Entwisle, ‘XVIIIth-Century Paper-Stainers and Decorators’ Bills’ Connoisseur 112 (September 1943), 38–41; Ambrose Heal, ‘Paper-Stainers of the 17th and 18th Centuries’ Country Life (22 July 1949), 258–59. 3 Conor Lucey, ‘Introduction’ in Decorative Plasterwork in Ireland and Europe: Ornament and the Early Modern Interior, ed. Christine Casey and Conor Lucey (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2012), 24. 4 See Alan Borg, The History of the Worshipful Company of Painters and Painter Stainers (Huddersfield: Mills for the Worshipful Company of Painter Stainers, 2005), 110. 5 Treve Rosoman, London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840 (London: English Heritage, 2009), 15. 6 Trade cards for Thomas Lovewell, active 1779–c.1789 (BM, HC 91.40) and William Demezal, 1783 (BM, HC 91.31). Flocks are discussed in Chapter 4. 7 The Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences: Or, Complete system of Literature (London: 1774, ECCO) Vol. 3, 334. Much of the entry is based on the appendix ‘Of the Manufacture of Paper Hangings’ in Robert Dossie, Handmaid to the Arts, 1758 – see E.A. Entwisle, A Literary History of Wallpaper (London: Batsford, 1960), pl. 29. 8 R.L. Hills, Papermaking in Britain: A Short History 1488–1988 (London: The Athlone Press, 1988), 89. 9 Cited in E.A. Entwisle, ‘Decoration for Georgian Walls’ Country Life (27 September 1973), 883–84. 10 Trade card for Richard Walkden, Guildhall Library. 11 General Description of all Trades, 1747, quoted in Entwisle’s annotated typescript, ‘Bibliography of Wallpaper’, compiled between 1945 and 1957, MSL/1981/3, V&A, National Art Library, f. 65. 12 Daily Advertiser, 8 February 1774, Burney. 13 Morning Chronicle & London Advertiser, 18 November 1783, Burney. 14 Joseph Collyer, The Parent’s and Guardian’s Directory, and the Youth’s Guide, in the Choice of a Profession or Trade (London, 1761, ECCO), 298. 15 Gazette, 26 February 1768, Burney. 16 Gazette, 13 February 1768, Burney. 17 Daily Journal, 28 November 1726, Burney. 18 Public Advertiser, 8 May 1759, Burney. 19 Booktrade Trade Cards 4, Bod., JJC. 20 William Moore (LBT/20392) and Thomas Gough (LBT/18561), London Book Trades database http://lbt.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/mediawiki/index.php/Main_Page. 21 On the links between Price, Dunbar and John Hall see correspondence between E.A. Entwisle and Ambrose Heal, December 1949, BM, HC after 91.45; Entwisle, ‘The Blew Paper Warehouse in Aldermanbury, London’ Connoisseur (American edition) 125 (May 1952), 94–98. 22 The Craftsman, 4 February 1744. 23 General Evening Post, 19 November 1743, Burney. 24 Morning Post and Daily Advertiser, 14 March 1777, Burney; trade card 1760s, Bod., JJC, Trade Cards 23 (95); Clare Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations in 18th Century

60  A contested trade Britain’ in New Discoveries, New Research: Papers from the International Wallpaper Conference at the Nordiska Museet Stockholm, 2007, ed. Elisabet Stavelow-Hidemark (Stockholm: The Nordiska Museet, 2009), fig. 2. 25 Christopher Gilbert and Geoffrey Beard, eds., Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (Leeds: Furniture History Society, 1986), 110. 26 Borg, History, 110 and 137, note 20; Rosoman, London Wallpapers, 16–17. 27 Eloy Koldeweij, ‘Gilt Leather Hangings in Chinoiserie and other Styles: An English Speciality’ Furniture History 36 (2000) Appendix 2 and 3. 28 Charles Ouvry (LBT/02679), London Book Trades database http://lbt.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ mediawiki/index.php/Main_Page. 29 John Cornforth and John Fowler, English Decoration in the Eighteenth Century (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1974), 25. 30 See Clive Edwards, ‘The Upholsterer and the Retailing of Domestic Furnishings 1600– 1800’ in Retailers and Consumer Changes in Early Modern Europe, ed. Bruno Blondé and Natacha Coquery (Tours: Presses Universitaires François-Rabelais, 2005), 53–69. 31 Trollope Letter Book BR/TRL/09, London Metropolitan Archives, F29, 36–37. 32 Quoted in Matthew Craske, ‘Plan and Control: Design and the Competitive Spirit in Early and Mid-Eighteenth-Century England’ Journal of Design History 12, no. 1 (1999), 209. 33 Ibid., 188, 207 and note 74. 34 1766, BM, HC 91.24, see Entwisle, Literary History, pl. 35; Gilbert and Beard, Dictionary, 211; British Evening Post, 8 March 1768, Burney. 35 These schemes are discussed in Chapter 3. 36 London Evening Post, July 1766, Burney. 37 Henry Isherwood LBT/19416 London Book Trades database http://lbt.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ mediawiki/index.php/Main_Page; trade card for Isherwood & Bradley, BM, BC 91.16. 38 Patrick Boyle, The General London Guide: Or, Tradesman’s Directory for the Year 1794. With a General Index to Trades (London: [1793?], ECCO). 39 Helen Clifford, ‘Concepts of Invention, Identity and Imitation in the London MetalWorking trades, 1750–1800’ in ‘Eighteenth-Century Markets and Manufacturers in England and France’ ed. Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 12, no. 3 (1999), 247–48. 40 See A.V. Sugden and J.L. Edmondson, A History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914 (London: Batsford, 1925), 134. Jean Hamilton questioned this assertion, see C.C. Oman and Jean Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cat. 112. 41 Eckhardts & Co, Royal Patent Manufactory, May 1793, BM, BC 91.12. 42 See Rosoman, London Wallpapers, pl. 1. There were other examples at Clandon, and in the Building of Bath Museum. 43 Earl of Richmond to Mr Dunbar, September 1738, Goodwood MS 109, West Sussex Record Office. 44 For discussion of this issue see Jon Stobart and Mark Rothery, ‘Geographies of Supply: Stoneleigh Abbey and Arbury Hall in the 18th century’ in The Country House; Material Culture and Consumption, ed. John Stobart and Andrew Hann (Swindon: English Heritage, 2016), 51. 45 On the naming of flock patterns see Chapter 4. 46 Quoted in Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), 46. 47 Entry for ‘Paper-hanging Manufacturers’, in Thomas Mortimer, The Universal Director: Or, the Nobleman and Gentleman’s True Guide to the Masters and Professors of the Liberal and Polite Arts and Sciences (London: 1763, ECCO), 53–54. 48 For a discussion of papier mâché see Chapter 5. 49 Anon., The New Complete Guide to all Persons who have any Trade or Concern with the City of London, and Parts Adjacent ([London]: [1774?]), ECCO). 50 William Bailey, Bailey’s British directory; or, Merchant’s and Trader’s useful Companion, for the Year 1784 (London: 1784, ECCO), 1.

A contested trade 61 51 Patrick Boyle, The General London Guide; or, Tradesman’s Directory for the Year 1794. With a General Index to Trade, London: [1793?], ECCO), 76, 101–3. 52 Trade Cards 5, Bod., JJC. 53 Dan Cruickshank and Neil Burton, Life in the Georgian City (London: Viking, 1990), 162–63. 54 For an account of the taxation process see Harry Dagnall, The Tax on Wallpaper: An Account of the Excise Duty on Stained Paper 1712–1836 (Middlesex: privately printed, 1990). 55 Dagnall, The Tax on Wallpaper, 4–5. 56 For a discussion of this term see Harry Dagnall, ‘Growing Duty’ Wallpaper History Review (1995): 60–61. 57 Anon, Modern Dictionary, 334. 58 Dagnall, The Tax on Wallpaper, 5. 59 These papers are discussed in Chapter 4. 60 The Merchants and Traders Guide (London, 1787, ECCO), 29. 61 Bill from Abraham Price to Robert Hucks, Great Russell Street, Museum of London Z1704/133. 62 Museum of London 66.94/23, 24; Morning Post & Daily Advertiser 20 October 1786, Burney. 63 World, 17 July 1787, Burney. 64 World, 18 August 1789, Burney. 65 Public Advertiser, 23 March 1756, Burney. 66 Gazette & New Daily Advertiser, 4 July 1768, Burney. 67 Gavin Hannah, ed., The Deserted Village: The Diary of an Oxfordshire Rector James Newton of Nuneham Courtenay 1736–86 (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1992), 134. I am grateful to Gillian Williamson for this reference. 68 Bill from Robert Dunbar, 1743, see Entwisle, History, pl. 36. 69 John Dean, The Rule of Practice Methodised and Improved (London: 1756, ECCO), 256. 70 BM, HC 91.50. 71 Bill from Joseph Knight to Mr Michie, 24 January 1788, BM, HC 91.38. 72 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to the Earl of Shelburne, 1782–83, Box 2 ‘Curious Bills’, Bowood Archives. For a discussion of stucco papers see Chapter 5. 73 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to the Earl of Coventry, October 1769, Croome Accounts 705.73 14450 208/F62 Box 28/59, Worcestershire Archives. 74 Rowena Beighton-Dykes, ‘Hanging Wallpaper during the Regency Period’ The Quarterly: Journal of the British Association of Paper Historians (January 2012), 24. For examples of the hanging methods used for flocks and plains see Chapter 4. 75 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Mr. Bennett, 19 August 1749, BM, HC 91.7. 76 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to the Earl of Shelburne, 1782–83, Box 2 ‘Curious Bills’, Bowood Archives. 77 The Observer, 8 May 1796, 3, The Guardian and Observer Online, www.theguardian. com/observer. For a discussion of the hanging of borders see Chapter 6. 78 Quoted in Lorna J. Clark, ed., Memoirs of the Court of George III: vol 4 The Diary of Queen Charlotte, 1789 and 1794 (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2015), 19 October 1794. 79 Trollope Letter Book, F5, 11. 80 Trollope Letter Book, F3. 81 Will of Moses Staples, proved 11 August 1778. NA PROB 11/1045/26. 82 Pat Kirkham, ‘If You Have No Sons: Furniture-Making in Britain’ in A View from the Interior: Feminism, Women and Design, ed. Judy Attfield with Pat Kirkham (London: The Women’s Press, 1995), 116–17. See too Brian Allen, Francis Hayman (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1987), cat. 27, 103–5. 83 Clive Edwards, ‘The Upholsterer and the Retailing of Domestic Furnishings 1600–1800’ in Retailers and Consumer Changes in Early Modern Europe, ed. Bruno Blondé, Eugémie Briot, Natacha Coquery and Laura Van Aert (Tours: Presses Universitaires FrançoisRabelais, 2005), 60. 84 Will proved October 31 1787, NA PROB 11/1158/16; Insurance policy taken out by Sarah Masefield 21 September 1787, Sun Fire Insurance MS 11936/349/534867, London Metropolitan Archive.

62  A contested trade 85 London Evening Post, 19 January 1760; Gazette, 24 June 1765, Burney. 86 The Historical, Biographical, Literary, and Scientific Magazine (London: [1800?], vol. 1 of 3, 109, ECCO). 87 Booktrade Devonshire temp sequence, Bod., JJC. 88 Such as Wells-Cole’s pioneering studies of paper stainers and dealers in eighteenth-century Leeds, see Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, 47–48. 89 Trade card for Harford’s paper warehouse, Cheapside, 1760s, BM, HC 91.32. 90 Phillippa Mapes, ‘Regional versus Metropolitan: The Provincial Wallpaper Trade 1750– 1850’ Wallpaper History Review (2015), 22–25. 91 Printed by R. Goadby, Sherborne, 1759, Bod., JJC, ECCO. 92 Trade Cards 4, Bod., JJC. 93 Public Advertiser, 3 October 1758, Burney. 94 Daily Advertiser, 8 December 1773, in Burney. 95 Jon Stobart, ‘Gentlemen and Shopkeepers: Supplying the Country House in EighteenthCentury England’ Economic History Review 64, no. 3 (2011), 889. 96 Gough maps 45, fol.173 Bodleian Library. I am grateful to Colin Harris for locating this item. Claire Walsh, ‘Shop Design and the Display of Goods in Eighteenth-Century London’ Journal of Design History 8, no. 3 (1995), 162 fig. 2. 97 Walsh, ‘Shop Design and the Display of Goods’, 161. 98 Charles Saumarez Smith, Eighteenth Century Decoration: Design and the Domestic Interior in England (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1993), pl. 93. 99 Walsh, ‘Shop Design and the Display of Goods’, 164. 100 For example, that for Biggerstaff & Walsh of Islington, c.1791, James Ayres, Arts, Artisans and Apprentices: Apprentice Painters and Sculptors in the Early Modern British tradition (Oxford and Philadelphia, PA: Oxbow Books, 2014), fig. 14. 101 See Introduction. 102 Christine Velut, ‘Between Invention and Production: The Role of Design in the Manufacture of Wallpaper in France and England at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century’, in ‘Disseminating Design: The French Connection’ ed. Katie Scott and Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 17, no. 1 (2004), 58. 103 Walsh, ‘Shop Design and the Display of Goods’, fig. 3. 104 Katie Scott, ‘The Waddesdon Manor Trade Cards’ in ‘Between Luxury and the Everyday: The Decorative Arts in Eighteenth-Century France’, ed. Katie Scott and Deborah Cherry, special issue Art History 28, no. 2 (2005), 97. 105 Claire Walsh, ‘Shops, Shopping and the Art of Decision Making in Eighteenth-Century England’ in Gender, Taste and Material Culture, ed. John Styles and Amanda Vickery (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006), 167. 106 Amanda Vickery, ‘“Neat and Not Too Showey”: Words and Wallpaper in Regency England’ in Gender, Taste and Material Culture in Britain and North America in the Long Eighteenth Century, ed. John Styles and Amanda Vickery (New Haven, CT and London: Yale Center for British Art/Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2006), 217–18. 107 Eckhardts & Co, Royal Patent Manufactory; Gilbert and Beard, Dictionary, 143. 108 Quoted in Lorna J. Clark, The Letters of Sarah Harriet Burney (Athens, GA and London: University of Georgia Press, 1997), 1–2 and note 12. 109 William Halfpenny, The Modern Builder’s Assistant (London: 1757, ECCO), 36. 110 Walter Robinson, The Landlord’s Pocket Lawyer; or, the Complete Tenant (London: 1781, ECCO), 43–44. 111 Daily Advertiser, 10 September 1774, Burney. 112 Public Advertiser, 14 April 1755, Burney. 113 Public Advertiser, 15 May 1764, Burney. 114 Gazette, 21 March 1766; Daily Advertiser, 12 September 1776, Burney.

3 Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter ‘India’ and ‘mock India’ papers, pictures and prints

This chapter concentrates on what contemporaries called ‘India’ paper, that is Chinese wallpaper intended to form continuous scenes, as well as the products produced in imitation of these, sometimes called ‘mock India’.1 ‘Mock India’ papers are a neglected category, as is another product associated with the umbrella term ‘India’ and also considered in this chapter: ‘India’ pictures and prints for use on screens, over-mantels, or in sets on the wall. Far from being the authentic, pure products they have often been characterised as, the chapter argues that India papers need to be seen as signifiers of shifting claims to control over the decoration of the home. The chapter focuses on three, related, issues. First, there is the question of these products’ relationship to consumerism and the trade in both luxury goods and import substitutes. Unlike other wallpapers, Chinese papers were not import substitutes or imitations of other, more costly, textile finishes: they were the luxury product and their very subjects – fruit, flowers, birds and sometimes too scenes of manufacturing – embodied a civilised order based on apparently inexhaustible resources. However, unlike other luxury goods such as silk and porcelain, Chinese wallpaper was not seen as a commercial threat and drain on resources, perhaps because, as explained below, it was part of the private trade. What did attract criticism in relation to wallpaper was its cost. In 1753 Elizabeth Montagu (1718–1800) – herself, as we shall see, an enthusiast for chinoiserie rooms – described a visit to Mr Hart’s Chinese house near Culham Court on the Thames, consisting of a ‘suite of rooms pav’d with pantyles and hung with paper, and the outside embellish’d with very costly decoration of the Chinese manner’ which she criticised for its costliness and ephemeral nature: ‘It seems to me no more than a whim, and so much money flung away’.2 Second, there is the association between Chinese things and women, particularly aristocratic women, and with this fears about ostentation and ‘shew’, resonances that continued into twentieth century schemes incorporating Chinese paper. David Porter’s studies in particular have unpicked the craze for Chinese furnishings, arguing that its rootedness in the taste of wealthy women for the foreign and the exotic represented a revolt not only against classical taste but the masculine identity associated with that taste.3 Related to this is a third and final issue, the lack of attention paid in the past to India papers in studies of chinoiserie, particularly the chinoiserie interior. Chinese wallpapers were nevertheless a key element in Chinese rooms. As Slobada has argued, a crucial part of the means by which chinoiserie signified elite taste was the way in which moveable objects (such as wallpaper) became fixed in a particular aristocratic spatial context, effacing their commercial origins, which nevertheless were part of chinoiserie’s very appeal.4 Slobada has also argued that this new style of interior enabled women such as Elizabeth Montagu to both assert their femininity and side step accusations of masculine intellectual ambition.

64  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter These three issues, the trade in luxury goods, the role of women and the place of Chinese wallpaper in the interior, are discussed in different contexts in this chapter. The ways in which Chinese wallpaper was acquired and hung is investigated in the first section which details the qualities that were sought after, as well as the networks involved in acquiring sets of paper and installing schemes – much more complex than those needed for English-made papers. The chapter then considers the place of Chinese wallpaper in the country house, in particular its links to spaces designated as female and how its subject-matter can be read in relation to European wallpaper. The ways in which India pictures were used to create bespoke schemes are investigated next, schemes that were at once exclusive yet subverted a high art model, the print room. Another neglected area of study in relation to Chinese wallpaper is the London house, and here I argue that, unlike in the country house, Chinese wallpapers were not confined to upper rooms but made inroads into other spaces such as the drawing room. Finally, the chapter examines how the process of import substitution was played out, discussing the trade in mock India papers and pictures during the 1760s.

Acquiring and hanging India paper and India pictures Chinese wallpapers were made outside Britain, in Guangzhou (Canton), probably by artisans who were also decorating silks for dress and bed upholstery destined for Europe. These workshops would have been familiar with decorating and drying long lengths of painted material, and an overlap with silk manufacture would have allowed for the sharing of skills in other aspects such as pattern drawing, too.5 Although in the past Chinese wallpaper has been seen as a hand painted object, the examples discussed in this chapter used printing (and sometimes stencilling) alongside hand painting. Motifs are also repeated within schemes, and from one scheme to another, challenging the myth that Chinese wallpapers are all unique products and indeed that they developed in isolation from European trends. Chinese wallpaper is also a material that has been seen against a well-established nomenclature that has categorised it by the type of subject depicted; birds and flowers, landscapes and scenes of daily life and manufacture, limiting its study as part of wider studies of chinoiserie. A letter at Dunster Castle, Somerset, indicates that a paper showing ‘the several stages of a Chinese manufacturer [ . . . ] the figures very compleat and intersperst with romantick views’ cost 7 shillings per yard (4 yards making up a sheet) whereas one ‘representing trees, birds and flowers’ cost 4s.6d. per yard. This has frequently been cited as evidence of a hierarchy of cost, but the question of cost is more complicated and less straightforward.6 Contemporaries also used other systems to categorise Chinese wallpaper, comprising labels evoking exotic places and materials. This was one of the means by which chinoiserie was set apart from other styles.7 ‘India paper hangings’ frequently shortened to ‘Indian’ or ‘India paper’, was a loose label which covered Chinese goods, sometimes called ‘Chineze’ in bills, and also ‘Japan’ papers, a reference to the imitation of japanning. The term ‘India paper’ also carried commercial connotations from the first in its inherent reference to the East India Company, since India papers were part of the private trade and the import quotas set by rank to which all the ship’s company were entitled.8 However, as Bert De Munck and Dries Lyna have argued in relation to concepts of value in material culture, a preoccupation with the consumption of commodities has overlooked what they term the changing relationship between producers and their

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 65 products and the shifting value of materiality. This section therefore interrogates the qualities attached to these luxury commodities, as well as the role of exchange systems in their acquisition.9 Chinese wallpaper was acquired in quite different ways to other eighteenth-century wallpapers. It reached London either via the private arm of the East India Company’s trade or from elsewhere in Europe. However, it was one thing for wallpaper to arrive on the dockside, quite another to acquaint consumers with its qualities. One quality that was singled out was therefore authenticity. At least one set of India paper, from the Green drawing room at Woburn Abbey of c.1800, is inscribed with the name of a ship, The Royal George, as well as the package number and number of sheets and lot number, seemingly records of auction results, but also a mark of authenticity.10 This authenticity was a repeated trope; in London auction sales from the 1760s until around 1780 India papers were frequently associated with Captains and other servants of the Company, such as Captain Vincent of The Osterley whose auction goods included ‘several superb sets of delicate Paper Hanging’.11 At first there was no further recommendation than the paper hangings were Indian, and sometimes ‘curious’, but by the mid-1760s consumers were evidently becoming more discerning, or the trade more competitive. India paper hangings began to be categorised by other qualities; as ‘superfine’, ‘very fine’ or ‘fine’. It is difficult to discern what these degrees of fineness might denote, except that they were in all likelihood tied to design or finish, suggesting that knowledge of these qualities was becoming widespread. Another sought-after quality related to ground colour. Most grounds were originally yellow or a vivid tone, often blue or pink.12 Gilt grounds were rarer although a gilt ground Indian flower paper with borders was supplied by Bromwich’s for Stonor Park in 1753 at 10/6d. per sheet or 12 foot length.13 Perhaps these visual qualities were deemed less desirable as gilt leathers were becoming outdated. References to grounds imitating japanning are also rare, due not only to cost but also perhaps to changing tastes as japanning became less popular. In 1766 Lady Mary Coke described ‘the chief curiosity’ in the Great Room at Richmond Lodge as a dark blue ground Indian paper that she thought ‘looks like japan’ and cost three guineas per sheet, but which ‘makes the room appear dismal’.14 When William Bray judged the blue India paper hung in Lady Stafford’s 25 foot square dressing room at Wentworth Castle ‘extremely elegant’ in 1783 it is likely this would have been a lighter ground.15 This taste for paler grounds and the desirability of complete sets were again reflected at auction. A 1781 sale included ‘24 sheets of beautiful white ground India taffaty paper hangings, ten feet long, and four feet wide; and 18 ditto of white ground birds and flowers, twelve feet by three’.16 Reselling did not then necessarily mean that the papers were being taken down because they were out of date. This concern with novelty is also reflected in Lady Mary Coke’s own taste, when she came to redecorate at Notting Hill in 1772: ‘I have taken down the Indian paper, put up another upon a blue ground with white birds and flowers: ’tis very pretty and has the additional recommendation of being quite new. There are but eight sets come to England’.17 Exclusivity then came from restrictions on supply, deliberate or otherwise; this meant that the acquisition of Chinese wallpaper could be a fraught business. It was perhaps because of this that consumers resorted to family networks for knowledge of, and expertise in, supply. For example, in 1756 Captain Cheyne seems to have acted as the middle man between Bromwich and Edward Hasell in Hasell’s acquisition of India paper painted with flowering plants and birds to decorate his newly created ground floor drawing room at Dalemain at the head of Ullswater in Cumbria. Sixteen large

66  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter and two small sheets of India paper together with painted rail borders were bought by Cheyne from Bromwich’s, perhaps using his knowledge of India paper, picked up in a similar manner to that captains acquired in handling textiles such as chintz and muslin, an aspect that merits further study in relation to wallpaper.18 Hasell also had a son who was a captain in the Company and he too might have had a hand in this transaction, and there are other examples of family involvement to support this idea.19 Although Chinese wallpaper could be acquired directly by consumers through auction purchase or gift, a small group of London tradesmen was also involved in its supply, reflecting Craske’s model of a cultural dialect between a narrow elite made up of consumers on the one hand, and prominent retailers and tradesmen on the other, in particular the upholder. One example of this group was Crompton & Spinnage; as early as 1746 William Spinnage was selling small amounts of India paper for screens, suggesting he as yet lacked the resources to retail India paper for hanging entire rooms, but by the early 1750s he was in partnership with William Crompton, where they advertised they could both supply and ‘well’ or ‘completely’ put up India paper. Crompton’s involvement in the trade in ‘Turkey’ and other imported carpets may have been complementary with the supply of Chinese wallpapers, allowing the firm to utilise existing contacts. By 1756 they were advertising ‘the greatest variety of India papers, consisting of landscapes, birds, sprigs & c’ in a range of sizes, suggesting they now had the resources necessary to carry a variety of patterns.20 Demand was not all met by upholders, however, since they competed with other retailers of luxury goods including lace-men, milliners and, in particular, china-men. From the late 1750s to the 1780s members of this group frequently advertised India paper alongside japanned and lacquered objects and paintings on glass.21 Chinese wallpaper was then clearly identified with these luxury interior furnishings, since no other wallpapers were sold by these groups. What these groups could not offer, however, were skills in hanging. For this, consumers could turn not only to upholders, but to paper hangings makers. Chinese wallpaper’s hanging methods, usually pasted onto paper and then onto linen or canvas stretched over battens, became a specialist task. These methods meant that Chinese wallpapers could be removed and rehung, and by the late 1740s they were appearing alongside other fixtures in aristocratic London house sales. This does beg the question of whether this offered a means for a wider group of consumers to acquire wallpapers, or rather a means for tradesmen to take control of second hand supply. Some dealers were early specialists in Chinese papers, such as the Chinee [sic] Paper Warehouse on Newgate Street, which may have been associated with the paper hangings maker John Trymner.22 The numbers involved were always smaller than those making and selling flocks and other patterned papers, however, and this probably reflected not only the initial cost of Chinese wallpaper, but its intermittent supply and the consequent difficulties of holding large amounts in stock. Suppliers with experience in gilt leather were early entrants to the trade in India papers. In c.1748 Thomas Bromwich advertised that he could hang rooms, cabins (presumably ship’s cabins) and stair cases with ‘guilt’ [sic] leather or ‘India Pictures’, a list to which by 1757 had been added ‘Indian Prints’ and ‘Indian Paper Hangings’, also available for export (Figure 1.4).23 It was not only skills in hanging chinoiserie schemes in gilt leather which enabled those trading in this product to move into wallpaper’s supply, however. Screens decorated with India paper and pictures proved enduringly popular over the century, and covering screens was another skill those dealing in leather had acquired. For example, by the 1750s Robert Halford, trading from the south-west side of St Paul’s churchyard, was

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 67 advertising that he not only made gilt leather screens and hangings, but also fitted up rooms ‘with India Pictures, Prints or Paper in the newest taste’.24 Unlike other chinoiserie goods supplied in sets, Chinese wallpapers were not made to order but supplied as a fixed number of lengths, so obtaining enough sheets of the desired quality and design at the outset was critical to success. Bromwich’s was one firm who could evidently meet these demands; in January, 1757 they supplied a large room set, twenty-six sheets of ‘fine’ birds and flowers, to Lord Coventry at Croome, each sheet a full length of 12 feet at a cost of 42s. per piece, followed by nineteen sheets of ‘taffety’ patterns at 15 shillings each in the following April.25 A fixed number of lengths also meant that fear of running out of paper haunts accounts, and supplies of even the costliest designs were often left on site to provide material for future repairs. For example, at Woburn India pictures left unhung at the Abbey in 1752 included three large pictures, one of figures and one of flowers and birds costing 14s each, and one described as ‘best Landscape’ costing £1.5s.0d. for each panel.26 Parcels were also kept unused: when the auction of the Duchess of Kingston’s household furniture was held at Thorseby Park in Yorkshire in 1789, a house which had two rooms hung with India paper, the sale included a box with India leaves for screens and ‘sundry India paper’.27 Even fragments carried a value, perhaps for use on screens if not repairs. Cost and rarity also meant that the hanging of Chinese wallpapers highlighted tensions around the control of decorative decisions in a manner which did not affect other patterned wallpapers in the same way. Chinese wallpapers were numbered at manufacture using Chinese characters but surviving schemes rarely use consecutive numbering around a room, suggesting both that sets were split up, increasing their value, and that decisions were taken about the hang once goods reached Europe. So for an order sent to Kilnwick Hall in Yorkshire in 1753, Bromwich took pains before dispatch both to attach the ‘Chineese [sic] ornament round ye top’ (a pattern called ‘Bishop of Feone’) and number the lengths against a plan of the room.28 It seems this system of re-numbering lengths against a room plan was one adopted by other leading suppliers.29 Perhaps consumers insisted on it, or the tradesmen themselves, both groups anxious to avoid costly mistakes which could not be rectified when working with a fixed number of lengths trimmed to fit a room. At Harewood in Yorkshire in 1770 Chippendale’s men went as far as to fix up an India paper and drawings for the Earl’s approval. Bills for ‘repairing’ India paper may even mask the correction of errors, since just two months after ‘fixing’ the India paper in the alcove room at Harewood ‘repairs’ were being carried out.30 Some consumers turned to their architects for help to obtain and install Chinese wallpapers. A fragment of an envelope reading ‘18 pictures of flowers/and birds/ [?] Mr Payne’ was found during the National Trust’s restoration of the Chinese wallpaper in the Bow window dressing room at Felbrigg in Norfolk in 1974, suggesting this scheme was bought directly by the architect James Paine (1717–89).31 However, this approach carried risks. In 1751 William Windham II (1717–61) was losing patience with Paine and wrote to his agent: I find all he says in his letter about the India paper being fitted by him in to the room & that he had sent drawings is all false the paper is now at his house in pieces and not at all fitted nor did he send any drawings & the man says he must send a person down at 3s 6d per diem while at Felbrigg & 6d per mile travelling charge which I think a cursed deal.

68  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter Architects, too, were then expected to supply drawings of how the wallpaper should be fixed, and evidently handled this commodity themselves, since Windham describes it as being at Paine’s own house. However, Windham was still waiting for delivery in January of the following year, telling his agent to advise Paine if a ship was going to London, in order to collect the remaining India papers so that ‘the India paper man’ could come to hang them. In the end it was April before the paper was dispatched, followed by Paine’s ‘drawings for the India paper’, presumably the long-awaited plan.32 Finally, the London paper hanger John Scrutton, perhaps a specialist in hanging India paper, made the journey to Felbrigg to install the schemes.33 The demands of supply and installation meant that complex networks developed between cabinet-makers, dealers in India papers and consumers. Chippendale was one supplier who responded to demand for chinoiserie goods, captioning a design of chairs ‘after the Chinese Manner’, as ‘very proper for a Lady’s Dressing-Room: especially if it is hung with India Paper’.34 He was also able to negotiate the acquisition of eighteen sheets of ‘fine India paper birds & flowers’ for Nostell Priory in Yorkshire for £12.15s.0d. from ‘a man in the country’ on his client’s behalf.35 The relationship between Bromwich, cabinetmaker William Hallett and Henrietta Howard, Countess of Suffolk (c.1681–1767), at Marble Hill illustrates some of the commercial and aesthetic issues involved in India paper’s supply and installation. Alterations at Henrietta’s Thames-side villa near Twickenham in 1751–52 included creating a new ground floor dining parlour out of a series of smaller rooms. By 1755 this was decorated with no less than sixty-two sheets of India paper and 135 yards of borders, the installation of which took forty-seven days of a man’s time, presumably involving cutting out borders and arranging individual sheets, at a total cost of £42.2s.0d. Hallett carried out the work, but when disputes arose over the cost and associated ‘repairs’ Henrietta withheld payment and Bromwich was called in to adjudicate. Bromwich upheld Hallett’s claim and his response suggests that the scheme was originally supposed to have included more India pictures, too, so it may well have been a fraught job from the start.36 Bromwich’s role here is difficult to unpick. On the one hand, his judgement on the grounds of both cost and aesthetics was one a consumer even of Henrietta’s rank was forced to accept. However, around 1745 William Hallett Senior and Bromwich had worked together at Holkham Hall in Norfolk and at Uppark in Sussex, and both supplied goods to Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill, implying the link between the two firms was a long standing one.37 That it was one consumers were also familiar with is evidenced by the way in which Bromwich’s name was linked to Hallett’s by Richard Owen Cambridge in the opening lines of ‘An Elegy Written in an empty assembly room’ of 1756: In scenes where Hallet’s genius has combined With Bromwich’s to amuse and cheer the mind Amid this pomp of cost, this pride of art, What mean these sorrows in a female heart?38 So it was a combination of Hallett’s and Bromwich’s skills which created a setting in which the female consumer’s taste could be satirised. This partnership in design and execution is then depicted as one in which the trade, not consumers, had control of decorative decisions. However, it seems these fears of satire did not affect Henrietta, perhaps because the feminine associations of chinoiserie were masked by hanging Chinese wallpaper in her dining parlour.

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 69

India paper in the country house These associations are embodied in the links between Chinese wallpaper and female lodgings in the country house, often referred to as ‘upper rooms’ – that is, suites composed of bedchamber, dressing room (or wardrobe), closet and perhaps a powdering room too. In the 1770s at Kedlestone in Derbyshire the wardrobe was hung with India paper, contrasting with the adjoining State bedchamber hung with blue damask, but the majority of schemes involved different India papers hung both in the bedchamber and dressing room.39 In 1746 Mary Delany described the decorations at Cornbury Park in Oxfordshire as: So neat and elegant that I never saw anything equal to it [ . . . ] the first room is hung with flowered paper of a grotesque pattern, the colours lively and the pattern bold and handsome (that is the Dean’s dressing-room); the next room is hung with the finest Indian paper of flowers and all sorts of birds, (that is my dressingroom); the ceilings are all ornamented in the Indian taste, the frames of the glass and all the finishing of the room are well-suited; the bedchamber is also hung with Indian paper on a gold ground and the bed is Indian work of silks and gold on white satin; the windows look into the park, which is kept like the finest garden, and is a Paradise.40 Evidently, the floral grotesque (probably an arabesque pattern, which we will explore in Chapter 6) was considered suitable (‘handsome’) for male use, whereas, in the female apartments, ‘India’ patterns on papers, ceilings (perhaps papier-mâché, discussed in Chapter 5) and bed hangings vied for attention. Mary Delany’s bedroom is hung with a more expensive India paper with a gilt ground, while the dressing room is decorated with the ‘finest’ flower and birds pattern, reflecting practice elsewhere to decorate the two rooms in complementary, but different, India papers. To Delany, however, the effect is not one of over indulgence, luxury and irrationality, but rather of gentility, elegance and order. Gendered readings of the association between Chinese wallpaper, women and upper rooms in the country house therefore need to take account of more nuanced interpretations, rooted both in familial networks and in an understanding of the significance of different types of schemes. Uniquely among eighteenth-century wallpapers Chinese wallpapers figure not only in correspondence, but also in fictional accounts. It was a form of decoration novelists adopted as a shorthand, used for example by Elizabeth Bonhote in describing the visit of her eponymous heroine, Ellen Woodley, and her father to Sir Henry and Lady Aldford at Myrtle Grove. The Woodleys were shown into a drawing room decorated with ‘Indian’ paper, the ceiling painted by Biagio Rebecca (c.1735–1808) and ‘the furniture a mixture of the modern and antique’, which to Ellen exhibited ‘a striking scene of Eastern splendour, united with English taste and magnificence’.41 In this imaginary setting then Indian paper was combined with painted ornament and ‘antique’ (i.e. classical) and modern (presumably Rococo) furniture and evoked two contrasting models: one of a loosely located luxury and one of ‘magnificence’ rooted in ‘English’ taste, creating a hybrid scheme. Here then it is not a question of oppositions between Chinese originals and European copies, but rather Chinese wallpaper in relation to other styles from French Rococo to English magnificence. Moreover, the site is not an upper room, but the drawing room, a space to which we shall return.

70  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter

Figure 3.1  Chinese Bedroom, Blickling Hall, Norfolk, hung c.1761, with landscape wallpaper and imitation bamboo trellis border, painted in ink and colour washes, Chinese, over western paper coloured to resemble sky, with overmantel composed of printed, coloured and collaged Chinese pictures, photographed in 1953 by A.F. Kersting.

One aspect that was an important driver to any new scheme was of course changes in the life-cycle, as part of the process of cementing new social and family relationships. An example of the hanging of an entire suite with Chinese wallpapers on a marriage comes from Blickling Hall in Norfolk. Lady Suffolk’s nephew, John Hobart, Second Earl of Buckinghamshire (1723–93), who had spent much of his childhood at Marble Hill, asked his aunt to intervene in his wife’s and sister’s schemes, insisting, in an interesting example of familial control, that ‘your authority is necessary to silence them’.42 The decorative schemes included the remodelling of the withdrawing room to create a suite of bedchamber, dressing room and powdering room and was associated with the Earl’s first marriage in 1761 to Mary Ann Drury (d.1769). In the bedchamber twenty-two lengths of a landscape design Chinese wallpaper was hung composed of four, largely identical, sets although the hang masks the repeat using the placing of buildings to achieve variety (Figure 3.1). In one sense the wallpaper follows a standard pattern; figures are set between pavilions and pagodas in the near ground, where they are depicted in groups gathering firewood and selling goods such as exotic fruit and coral, leading to images of hunting in the middle ground and finally mountains in the background.43 Yet this is not quite the authentic wallpaper it appears; although the viewpoint leads the eye up the wall, conservation carried out between 2002 to 2003 revealed that the upper portion was trimmed around the tops of

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 71 the mountains and the lengths pasted up over a European paper brushed horizontally in blue distemper to represent the sky. It has been presumed that this was done because the paper lengths were insufficiently long to fill the wall height, but it may also have been about modifying design intentions.44 A wide (8 inch) rail border, a familiar component in papered schemes, was also hung around the room (Plate 3). Rail borders consisted of a geometric pattern of imitation bamboo intertwined with flowering foliage. Such borders were used either to hide wear and tear or to update rooms, for example at Kenwood.45 Some of the rail borders were inscribed with the date 1758, ‘Suffolk’ and ‘Lott 30’, suggesting that they were purchased at auction by Lady Suffolk; their design also relates to those hung at Hampden House, discussed below. The pair of ivory pagodas in the same room are also traditionally associated with Marble Hill, although they do not appear in the 1793 inventory which listed other Indian goods in the dressing room.46 Lady Suffolk then seemingly had a hand in the scheme – through gifting, acting as purchaser on her nephew’s behalf or simply imposing another layer of decoration – either at the time the wallpaper was hung or subsequently. It is possible this was to reinforce the chinoiserie mood, a departure from the earlier classical scheme whose cornice and chimneypiece nevertheless dilute the effects of the Chinese paper and border. Like the State suite at Nostell Priory in Yorkshire, supplied and hung with India paper by Chippendale, this was a hybrid space where styles complemented each other, presenting what Sloboda has called a ‘vision of the “other”, materialized and unified through decorative objects’.47 Unlike Nostell, however, the over-mantel at Blickling is set not with an Italian landscape (or indeed a mirror), but with a collaged panel made up of sections from an Indian landscape paper or print, which, together with the presence of the rail borders, suggests that at Blickling chinoiserie was intended to be the dominant fantasy. This model of complementary India papers, but with different subjects, in a dressing room and its adjacent bedchamber is one that was repeated elsewhere. The practice was also evident, for example, in the upper rooms at nearby Felbrigg.48 Mrs Windham’s ‘light’ (i.e. lit by a window) closet was intended to be hung with a ‘cheap’ India paper and the 1771 Inventory also records an ‘India paper with Pigeons’ in a dressing room, but only one scheme now survives, that in the Bow window dressing room. At Felbrigg there was a clear contrast between the exotic fantasy in the dressing room and the Cabinet directly below it which was decorated to house the paintings collected by the Windhams on their Grand Tour. In the dressing room, the ‘vision of the “other”’ is rooted not in figures, as at Blickling, but in birds and plants. Throughout the period of Chinese wallpapers’ popularity, papers were produced showing flowering plants in a landscape setting, often interspersed with birds and insect life. Their botanical accuracy was praised by Joseph Banks who wrote in 1771 that: A man need go no further to study the Chinese than the Chinese paper. Some of the plants which are common to China and Java as bamboo, are better figured there than in the best botanical authors that I have seen.49 Far from being fantastical then, Banks is asserting that the depictions in wallpapers are so authentic that they rival the work of natural history artists. According to John Barrow (who travelled with Lord Macartney’s embassy to Beijing in the 1790s, to try and establish diplomatic relaltions with the Qianlong emperor), writing in 1804, this accuracy was fuelled by European demand. He noted: ‘The Chinese having found that

72  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter the representations of natural objects are in more request among foreigners, they pay strict attention to the subject that may be required’, reflecting the skills of Chinese painters trained in botanical accuracy.50 Desire for accuracy may also be related to another desire, to possess exotic plants, especially those that have successfully flowered and fruited. In this sense wallpapers displaying these plants could act as an alternative route to the type of possession which Beth Fowkes Tobin sees as a form of cultural capital. She argues that the tropical plant circulated as a social signifier in eighteenthcentury British society through literature and plant collecting, a means whereby exotic plants were domesticated and de-contextualised.51 Links to European models are also seen in two sets of Chinese wallpapers which were formerly at another country house associated with the Hobart-Hampden family, Hampden House in Buckinghamshire.52 Hampden presents a different set of decorating decisions, but again one where simple associations between women and the hanging of Chinese wallpaper, commerce and high art, are challenged. Remodelled in the Gothic taste by John Hampden VIII (d.1754, later First Earl of Buckinghamshire) in the 1730s, Hampden’s cousin, Robert Trevor, inherited the house on Hampden’s death and evidently too his cousin’s enthusiasm for chinoiserie. Chinese wallpapers were hung in at least two interiors, adjoining ground floor rooms at the north end of the east front, creating a new State bedchamber and ‘Parlor’. In April 1757, works were seemingly nearing an end since ‘young Linell’, presumably the cabinet maker William Linnell the younger, had inspected the masons’ work. By January 1758, a case of India paper was finally on its way from London and Trevor was worrying about that perpetual enemy of wallpaper, damp, instructing his steward to tell the waggoners to keep the case of India paper ‘removed from all wett’.53 Although there is no evidence of Bromwich’s involvement in this scheme, he had hung wallpaper for John Hampden VIII so it is possible he had a hand in the supply of these papers, too. In the State bedchamber a design which looks at first glance like an English repeating paper was hung. The design imitates not Chinese but European wallpaper both in its pattern, composed of intertwining ribbons creating two sizes of hexagon, and its technique, since it used printed outlines for the objects (Figure 3.2; Plate 4). These objects included material goods as well as cultivated fruit and flowers.54 Their prominence suggests that it was not only the hanging of this luxury import, i.e. the India paper, but, as at Felbrigg, the display of exotic plants which could signify the owner’s cultural capital. Such an idea might have held particular appeal at Hampden, where vast sums were spent on improvements to the grounds. Fruits and flowers alternate with man-made objects associated not with commercial culture but with the enjoyments of a scholar, including music and calligraphy, which in turn move the design away from associations with trade and consumption to those of courtliness and civilised order. The design challenges interpretations of Chinese wallpaper which have emphasised their purity and distance from European taste, providing evidence that Chinese makers reworked European versions of Chinese originals, just as English manufacturers responded to consumer demand for certain designs. The literary scholar Chi-ming Yang has argued in relation to eighteenth-century drama that ‘Through a complex process of back-and-forth (and back) imitations, original and copy are no longer locatable’.55 A similar process can be seen to underlie patterns such as this, a reading underlined by the fact that the wallpaper was designed to be hung using a dropped repeat, another European model. The wallpaper has been seen as unique; however, another India paper of floral sprays tied with ribbon survives from Oakley House, remodelled by the Dukes of Bedford as a shooting box in the late 1740s.56 This again

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 73

Figure 3.2  Trellis patterned wallpaper composed of intertwining ribbons enclosing motifs including musical instruments, flowering and fruiting plants and painting materials, hung c.1758, printed in ink and painted in body colour, Chinese (originally from the State bedchamber, Hampden House, Buckinghamshire).

uses a dropped repeat and reflects European models, suggesting that the mechanisms whereby information about European wallpapers reached China merits further study. One aspect of the appeal of such designs was a practical one, since they were much more flexible in hanging. Another was that it was only at close quarters that they were revealed as Chinese, a visual deception which may have enabled consumers to negotiate the negative connotations of chinoiserie. These negative connotations are often situated around the concept of luxury and unregulated female desire for, and consumption of, Asian objects. This desire was characterised as rooted in feminine taste for the sensual and the superficial, the opposite to a regulated and ordered masculine taste rooted in the classical. There was much to fear from those who controlled this taste; particularly when it came to the imagery of Chinese wallpaper. One contemporary satirist described upper rooms where, in the hands of a Chinese upholsterer, wainscot was replaced with Chinese wallpaper decorated with fantastical figures of birds, animals and fishes, images which the satirist claimed subverted not only natural order but male control within the marriage. What Trevor’s choice of an ordered design of carefully delineated natural and man-made objects did was refute these associations, and moreover he did so in an alternative form of chinosierie which

74  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter allowed men to express taste for Chinese wallpaper, too. By hanging this paper in the principal bedchamber, part of a suite of highly visible rooms along the garden front, he could also side-step the negative associations with upper rooms. By dealing directly with Linnell (who must surely have supplied the carved chinoiserie chimneypiece for the adjoining parlour) and other artisans Trevor was also able to exercise greater control over Hampden’s decoration; not for him the dictates of an all-encompassing upholsterer.

India pictures, plains and ‘pencilling’ This view is reinforced by the scheme installed in the parlour at Hampden, where individual ‘Indian pictures’ derived from a European model, a Watteau print, were hung together with a rail border and floral papers (Plate 5). The pictures blur the distinctions between imitation and real in the scenes of Chinese figures, shown consuming luxury goods produced for export to Europe, themselves enclosed in Rococo scrollwork derived from French and English printed sources.57 The choice of a papered scheme which combined ‘India pictures’ with imitation papier mâché or stucco may also be indebted to bespoke schemes made up of India pictures and actual papier mâché. One example was the bedchamber at Stoneleigh Abbey created by Bromwich & Leigh in 1763–64 for the Hon. Mary Leigh, unmarried sister to Edward, fifth Lord Leigh. This scheme adapted the classical format of the print room, which consisted of pasted pictures or prints and decorative embellishments (Figure 3.3).

Figure 3.3  Detail of the Hon. Mary Leigh’s bedchamber, Stoneleigh Abbey, Warwickshire, decorated with India pictures (Chinese) and papier mâché ornaments (English), supplied and installed by Bromwich & Leigh in 1763–64, photograph published in 1947.

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 75 At almost fifty guineas the room’s decoration was the most costly in the firm’s bill for work at the Abbey. It consisted of ‘fine’ pea green plain paper decorated with a total of seventeen Indian pictures: two large, and fifteen smaller, seemingly of two different designs. However, at Stoneleigh the walls were hung not with prints but with large pictures ready framed in gilt, not paper, and Bromwich’s also supplied gilt papier mâché ornaments to frame the smaller pictures and embellish the walls.58 The plain pea green paper cost five guineas put up with cartridge paper underneath and the pictures over sixteen guineas in total, but over fifty per cent of the cost of the room was in the hanging of the lining paper and landscapes and fitting up the mâché ornaments.59 The combination of verditer green and gilt frames was a fashionable one.60 However, the incorporation of Chinese, rather than European, landscapes or portraits clearly differentiated Mary’s apartment and made her identity within the family seat highly visible. Nor was Chinese taste confined to this room alone since elsewhere in the Abbey two adjacent chambers were hung in this style, one with India taffety and the other with sheets of birds and flowers. Both rooms again demanded complex hanging skills, consisting of layers of linen and plain paper underneath and mâché borders, this time not gilt but coloured. At Stoneleigh the price of the plain paper (12d. per yard) hung in Mary’s apartment suggests it was English and not Chinese. However, the firm also sold plain India paper, eight sheets of which in pink at 1s.6d. each were supplied in 1769 to William Blathwaite of Dyrham Park in Gloucestershire, alongside the papier mâché fittings needed to create a version of the Mary Leigh scheme.61 The choice of plain India paper leads me to question what qualities allowed Bromwich’s to sell it alongside English made plain paper? Perhaps it was the depth and opacity of the Chinese paper’s colour which was distinct, in particular ‘India pink’, six sheets of which were returned unused from Bromwich’s work for Lord Coventry in 1757.62 Demand for plain India paper does suggest that consumers could differentiate India from English made plain paper, and were prepared to pay more for India paper’s aesthetic effects. Another type of bespoke scheme involved India paper and painting (‘pencilling’), and one individual whose skills in executing such schemes were valued was John Spinnage, the son of William Spinnage (d.1762), who worked at Woburn Abbey throughout the 1750s.63 As part of a number of chinoiserie schemes executed by Crompton & Spinnage at the Abbey the Duchess’s dressing room was hung with India paper over strained and papered canvas, before Spinnage attended in person for five days.64 His work involved ‘Consulting’, ‘Makeing Patterns’ and finishing the chimney front (perhaps the over-mantel). Hand painting skills were evidently needed for the patterns, since a Mr Mackenzie and Mr Woodcock spent a total of eight weeks in 1752 ‘painting flowers’ (at 7s.6d. per day, 3 shillings less than Spinnage’s own daily rate), and in Woodcock’s case ‘assisting in finishing the room’.65 It is tempting to identify this figure as Edward Woodcock, who in 1768 advertised that he had been apprenticed to a pattern drawer and cut prints for paper stainers, skills which meant he would have been well qualified for this work at the Abbey.66 The involvement of Spinnage and Woodcock in pattern making shows that this scheme of flowers demanded specialist skills in both painting and design. It signals not only the attention paid to the decoration of the Duchess’s dressing room within the Abbey, attention only an elite consumer could afford, but also a desire for a scheme whose investment in making and bespoke finish meant it was distanced from the commercial world of paper hangings.

76  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter Bespoke finishes could also be achieved in other ways which suggest consumers invested in these schemes, too. Mary Delany’s own paper collages were not made in isolation, since she undertook shared projects, reporting that her friend Mrs Vesey ‘had a whim to have Indian figures and flowers cut out and oiled, to be transparent, and pasted on her dressing-room window in imitation of painting in glass, and it has a very good effect; we go again next Friday to finish what we began last week’.67 Mrs Vesey and Mary Delany were cutting motifs out of Chinese wallpaper to decorate windows, imitating the effects of mirror paintings imported from China, a fashion that was reflected in the growth of the trade in ‘transparencies’ over the eighteenth century.68 However, Bromwich’s and Crompton & Spinnage’s skills in creating bespoke schemes were certainly admired by contemporaries, and again it is dressing rooms that are singled out. Caroline Lybbe Powys (1738–1817) reported when she visited Mawley Hall in Shropshire in 1771: ‘Lady Blount’s dressing-room you may imagine elegant; fine India paper on pea-green put up by Spinage, with equal taste as Mrs Freeman’s (at Fawley Court, Bucks), by Bromwich’. When Caroline (wife of the local Rector) visited Fawley in the same year she described Mrs Freeman’s dressing room in more detail as ‘prettier than tis possible to imagine, the most curious India paper as birds, flowers etc, put up as different pictures in frames of the same, with festoons, India baskets, figures, & c. on a peagreen paper, Mr. Broomwich having again display’d his taste as in the billiard-room below’. This then was a scheme composed of framed India pictures with what appear to be cut-out decorations. Fawley Court in Buckinghamshire was remodelled by Sambrooke Freeman (d.1782) from 1767–71. He plainly had an interest in chinoiserie, designing a Chinese Temple for Prior Park, Bath, an interest he may have inherited from his father, John Freeman, an East India merchant who designed Chinese-style buildings. Mrs Freeman’s bedchamber was also hung with a red ground chintz with panels painted with more than life size Chinese figures; and in another bedchamber a buff ground Chinese wallpaper was hung.69 The print room model created for Stoneleigh was also seen elsewhere, using paper on its own, rather than with papier mâché.70 As early as 1742 Daniel Woodroffe supplied eighty-eight India pictures at 4s.6d. each to Lady Cardigan which were fitted up by Benjamin Goodison (c.1700–67). Goodison was paid £11 for ‘Linnen cloth to cover all the Sides of the Dressing room & fitting & fixing up Do & pasting India pictures all over Do & making good the Figures over the Joyning of the pictures’.71 This taste for print rooms made up of India pictures was not, however, only confined to wealthy women in the country house; male consumers also adopted the fashion. In 1750 John Hampden VIII bought an India Picture of Canton (presumably intended as an overmantel), a dozen prints of Joseph Goupi’s and thirty-two yards of Irish brown to paste prints up on, paying Bromwich £5.3s.6d. for paper hanging.72 In the same year Horace Walpole decorated a drawing room in the Chinese style at his friend Mr Rigby’s house in Essex. He described it as consisting of ‘large and fine Indian landscapes, with a black fret round them, and round the whole entablature of the room, and all the ground or hanging is of pink paper’.73 The black borders and pink background would have created a vivid effect with the bright grounds of the pictures themselves, an effect the surviving print room at Saltram still evokes to some degree. At Fawley in 1771 the billiard room in turn was described by Caroline Lybbe Powys as ‘hung with the most beautiful pink India paper, adorn’d with very good prints, the borders cut out and the ornaments put on with great taste by Broomwich, and the pink colour, besides being uncommon, has a fine effect under prints’.74 This evidence suggests that paper hangers could subvert

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 77 the high art model of the print room, seizing on it as another outlet for their goods and skills. It also provides another example of what Sloboda, discussing the State suite as Nostell, identifies as classicism and chinoiserie operating as tandem styles, since the classical format of the print room was adapted to accommodate Chinese images.

India paper in the London house What then of the London house; did similar motivations and structures apply there about the spaces where Chinese wallpapers were hung? An extract from Francis Coventry’s History of Pompey the Little suggests that Chinese wallpapers were sufficiently well established in London houses to be used to conjure up chinoiserie interiors too, alongside other markers including chintz bed hangings and the drinking of tea: The Post-chaise stopped in a genteel Street in London, and Pompey was introduced into decent Lodgings, where every Thing had an Air of Politeness, yet nothing was expensive. The Rooms were hung with Indian Paper; the Beds were Chinese; and the whole Furniture seemed to shew how elegant Simplicity can be under the Direction of Taste. Tea was immediately ordered, and the two Ladies sat down to refresh themselves after the Fatigue of their Journey.75 Here, there are no concerns about excess and threats to good order, rather Chinese wallpapers form an elegant setting for polite behaviour at a genteel address. Letters also support the association between Chinese wallpaper and female spaces in grand London houses; in 1769 Lady Shelburne wrote regretfully in her diary from London that ‘my Bed Chamber above stairs is hung with a very fine India paper there is however no other furniture in it & it cannot be made use of this year’.76 However, the well-known account by Elizabeth Montagu presents a different view; her dressing room at 23 Hill Street combined Chinese window treatments with chairs whose seat backs evoked Indian fan sticks and which was hung with ‘painted paper of Pekin’. Montagu characterised the result as ‘like the Temple of some Indian God’, a phrase also adopted by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and which signalled a desire to be captivated not just by exotic goods, but by the appeal of unregulated behaviour such rooms might permit. Slobada has explored the adoption of chinoiserie by Elizabeth Montagu and her circle as suitable for the decoration of a new type of interior that both opened up a space for female participation in the social sphere but also, given its associations with female aesthetic frivolity, one which did not challenge the traditional preserves of masculine power.77 By the 1780s India paper was also being hung in grand London drawing rooms. In April, 1782, newspapers were anticipating the sale of the household furnishings of the outgoing Venetian resident Monsignor Cavalli, reporting that the Haymarket auction rooms were crowded with ‘genteel company’ but also that: The landlord of the Ambassador’s house in Soho Square is deemed highly culpable for not permitting a sale on the premises, particularly as his interest was nearly concerned. Mons Cavalli generously offered him the beautiful India paper hangings on canvas, in the drawing room, and several . . . [other fixtures] but his choleric disposition prevented him from entering into any treaty whatever. He is now sensible of his error as the new Vatican Minister has taken the identical house

78  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter late in the occupation of Mr Cavalli and would have given a fair price (for any of the above articles).78 ‘Beautiful’ India papers then formed the backdrop to the global interactions which took place in an ambassador’s drawing room. This does reflect India paper’s use in the drawing rooms of London houses by the end of the century. For example, in 1788 Turner’s, who supplied papers to the Carnes of Essex amongst others from their warehouse on Cornhill, set out details of the exhibition at their warehouse, designed to catch the aristocratic summer trade. To attract this clientele there was evidently a need to display sets fitted up, one of which was described as: An elegant set of India paper, consisting of 24 sheets in each, of which the subject is varied, but so contrived, that when joined, they form [the] most beautiful hangings for a large drawing room; they will bear the most minute inspection, being pencilled with great correctness, and coloured in a most masterly style, and are in every respect far superior to the papers usually imported from India.79 Once again these hangings are characterised as not gaudy but elegant, and the display allowed clients to judge for themselves the quality of the papers’ hand painting and colouring. Perhaps the best known Chinese wallpaper with a London provenance is that associated with the banker Thomas Coutts (1725–1822), which also has an Ambassadorial connection. It was believed to have been received from the Chinese Emperor by Lord Macartney (1737–1806) during his embassy of 1792–94, and subsequently gifted to Coutts who was both his banker and his relative.80 Coutts hung the paper in his private drawing room above the bank, an interior where the informal chintz seating and absence of paintings contrasted with the sober green verditer walls hung with oils in the dining room (Plate 6). Were the associations of chinoiserie with frivolity and femininity problematic for Coutts? Arguably the choice of subject matter might have deflected such criticisms, since the wallpaper included views of the manufacture and cultivation of porcelain, tea and silk, offering a vision of an idealised, ordered society based on abundant natural resources. These scenes of imagined ordered manufacture and cultivation could be seen as appropriate for Coutts, whose business relied on funding trading and diplomatic endeavours across the globe, a business which by the 1790s was providing him with an income of £25,000 per year.81 However there is another reading here, since a consumer who had built his fortune on funding overseas endeavours was also removing himself from commercial associations by appropriating European aristocratic taste in his drawing room in a paper with Imperial associations not with Europe, but with Asia. Wealthy merchants with houses on the edge of London were also at the forefront of taste for Chinese wallpaper, just as they were amongst the early consumers of English made paper hangings. Two panels, showing pairs of Chinese male figures hunting for deer and pheasants against a backdrop of flowering trees and rockwork, formed part of a scheme hung after 1755 in a merchant’s home in Watford.82 The use of panels in the Watford scheme clearly avoids the difficulties and expense, outlined above, of installing sets of papers to form a continuous landscape. The hanging of Chinese paper could also be read as the owner (a member of the Cannon family, brewers in the town) signifying his aspirations.

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 79

Mock India papers and pictures It was not only Chinese wallpapers which impacted on consumer cultures. As Berg has pointed out, ‘Asian models also stimulated Europeans to produce their own imitations in manufacturing processes, designs and marketing strategies. Asian luxury goods were highly successful transmitters of technology, designs, and aesthetics. They transmitted cross-cultural characteristics across great distances’.83 Wallpaper is one area where the process of import substitution remains little studied, yet it is one where manufacturers were already familiar with the product they were imitating; they may not have designed or manufactured it, but they had hung and marketed it. References to ‘mock’ India paper first appear in the mid-1750s, suggesting that it is around this date that demand for India paper exceeds supply, a level which meant designs to rival the ‘real’ would be accepted, and that the market expands.84 However, not all suppliers of Chinese wallpaper produced mock India products. For example, Crompton & Spinnage made no claims to selling (or indeed hanging) imitations of India paper or pictures. Indeed in 1760 when William Crompton died and his brother Benjamin replaced him in the partnership Spinnage found it necessary to announce that they supplied a ‘variety of very fine real India paper’.85 Authenticity remained of key importance to Crompton & Spinnage, and presumably their clients, too. In this, however, they were in a minority since many firms made these import substitutes. The supply of mock India paper may have offered a means of starting out in the trade; John Brown was keen to advertise his links to Bromwich’s when he set up his own paper hanging warehouse on Fleet Street in 1767, links which may have enabled this ‘young beginner’ to supply both ‘Indian and mock Indian paper’.86 By the 1760s mock India papers were available from regional tradesmen, too, in particular upholsterers and cabinetmakers. When the cabinet-maker Samuel Hilliker, of Marlborough in Wiltshire, died in 1785 his bequests to ‘my old friend William Day’ included ‘all my mock India Paper’ as well as his ‘Drawings of Cabinet Furniture’, suggesting that the paper was as important as furniture designs to his trade.87 The attraction of mock India paper for consumers was based on price; a sheet or wall length of ‘mock India’ paper could cost 10 shillings, this was still 4 shillings more than a chintz paper and over 5 shillings more than a mock or imitation flock, but a long way from the one guinea charged for a small India picture, or for a 12 foot long sheet starting with birds and flowers at 12 shillings rising to 30 shillings for a taffety paper. There were, however, other factors in its appeal. By the 1750s the market for mock India paper in London had becoming competitive, and advertisements drew comparisons with India paper, illuminating what were seen as important aspects of both types of wallpapers’ design. As Natacha Coquery has pointed out in her study of Parisian shopkeepers, there was no attempt to hide the fact that objects were imitations – indeed, advertisements foregrounded the skills needed to make fakes.88 Even the term ‘mock India’ emphasised this aspect and is illustrated by the claims made by two rival tradesmen based on the Strand, the stationer Montagu Lawrence and the upholder William Pope. Each claimed originality of invention and pointed out the advantages of mock India paper in less waste, greater variety, ease of hanging and patterns ‘far more picturesque, elegant and lively than real Indian’ which could also be matched to silk for curtains and upholstery. India paper’s designs then by inference lacked movement and informality. The ability to match textiles and modify design were also singled out alongside practical considerations of wastage, perhaps a reference to the long lengths

Figure 3.4  First floor room at Berkeley House, Wotton-under-Edge, Gloucestershire, hung after 1740, with wallpaper imitating Chinese landscape wallpaper, painted in tempera, English, with Rococo style border, printed over a black ground, English, after 1740, photographed c.1905.

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 81 of India sheets ill-suited to town house hangs. Pope even went so far as to say that no two lengths could ever be the same, achieving 8000 pattern variations, while Lawrence, who employed ‘the most masterly Hands in this Kingdom in the Art of Paper Painting’ set his sights on a ‘great variety of Mock India Paper (though, perhaps, not quite 8000 different Patterns)’.89 It was not only aesthetic qualities which were transmitted in this way, skills were another aspect, in particular the use of hand finishing. A painted design of birds and flowers set in a watery landscape was hung in an upstairs room of a modest town house connected with goldsmiths (known as Berkeley House) in Wotton-under-Edge in Gloucestershire in around 1740 (Figure 3.4).90 This may have been a bedchamber since it is associated with a powdering closet, suggesting that the link between India papers and upper rooms was maintained in the spaces where imitations were hung. It also contained a Rococo-style over-mantel with tiered shelving for the display of porcelain.91 However, it seems that it was more usual to combine hand finishing with printing. In 1753 Edward Dighton was granted a patent for copper plate printed paper ‘beautifully coloured in Pencil Work and gilt’ which, it was claimed, ‘imitated India paper so near that many good judges have taken it for the same’.92 Significantly, then, imitation is defined by reference to the fact that those deemed worthy to form a judgement have been deceived by the printed and hand finished version, suggesting the tensions inherent in these new products. The patent was shared between Dighton and three others including the paper hanging manufacturer John Sigrist (d.1799).93 Not all imitations used copper plates or hand finishing techniques, some also used stencilling. Manufacturers also produced designs which followed the same categories as Chinese wallpaper: Sigrist headlined his trade card with the patent listing the imitation of India landscapes, figures, flowers and birds. These were priced between 3d.–5 shillings per yard, and cost no more than ‘common’ papers (i.e. English repeating wallpapers) to hang as they did not demand lengthy preparation. Sigrist also claimed that by being printed from copper plates they produced aesthetic effects superior to those achieved with wooden blocks.94 In fact, Chinese wallpaper’s vibrant grounds of blue, pink and yellow faded easily which may explain why John Harris and Sigrist emphasised that their hangings’ ‘elegance and duration of Colours’, which they claimed was not exceeded by any other inventions.95 Durability of colour combined with a wider range of designs were other important qualities; Richard Masefield described his ‘mock India paper, made after a method peculiar to himself’ as surpassing ‘everything of the kind yet attempted and for Variety, Beauty and Duration equal to the real India paper’ (Figure 2.6). Masefield’s commercial success may then have been rooted in this winning combination. When he died in 1787 he was wealthy man, a flashy dresser who left goods including a gold watch, a silver travelling watch and a gold and silver coat as well as property in London and Staffordshire and premises off the Strand.96 Selective adoption of Chinese wallpapers’ format, techniques and motifs is also illustrated by a group of single, non-repeating sheets which were plate printed and hand coloured in London in the late 1760s. Priced at 18d. per sheet they were vastly cheaper than the India pictures whose format they imitated. Imitation did not, however, infer that designs were copied directly from India pictures, since the landscape of angular rockwork, pines and balustrading recalls designs by Matthew Darly. These are seen both on his trade card (Figure 1.6) and in his chinoiserie designs, designs which were used as a source for plate printed cotton so perhaps for wallpapers, too.97 However,

82  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter the figure images may also have had their models in India pictures of another kind (Plate 7). Natasha Eaton has explored how racial divisions slide into each other in the trade card for Charles Vere who traded at ‘The Indian King’. Vere sold imported hot drinks and a ‘great variety of India pictures and rooms hung with the same in the Genteelest taste and upon the most reasonable terms’. Vere’s card shows what may have been his shop sign, a framed painting of a supposed Indian Prince. Eaton has demonstrated how this image appropriated iconography from earlier theatrical pageants, and has also studied auction catalogues for references to Indian pictures, which she reads as Mughal paintings, noting that they were frequently found hung above fireplaces in the dining rooms and parlours of London houses.98 These may therefore be a further source for mock India sheets, presenting another kind of hybrid image, combining Indian motifs in their imitation of a Chinese made product. This group of mock India papers then combined exotic figures within the format of India picture’s landscapes. Like the Chinese wallpaper associated with Thomas Coutts, they illustrated imported luxuries but where they differ is that they depicted the consumption of both these and European chinoiserie goods including garden landscapes, furniture and dress. On another level they could also be viewed as imitating the very interiors they were designed to decorate, creating settings in which conventional social hierarchies could be suspended, in the same way in which Sloboda has suggested Elizabeth Montagu was able to do in the decoration of 23 Hill Street. These designs were also exported, not only due to cost but perhaps because their flexibility meant that they avoided worries about sufficient wallpaper being available and could be integrated in decorative schemes with greater ease. The Estèbe House in Quebec City, Canada, was built by William Estèbe in 1751–2 and in 1930 two panels of paper were found on the window wall of the ground floor rear room as part of a Rococo panelled scheme. They may have been among the types of paper hangings ‘just imported from London’ which John Baird of Quebec City advertised for sale in 1764.99 However, it was not only on the wall where India papers and their imitations created new models, they also stimulated product innovation in other material goods for use in the interior including not only chimneypiece decorations, but chimney-stops. Papered ‘stops’, ‘boards’ or canvas-backed blinds covered the chimney aperture in summer. Flower pots and vases were therefore the motifs of choice, and their popularity is evidenced by Jones’s manufactory on Holburn Hill choosing to illustrate them on their trade card. This card was designed by Darly, who may have been responsible for the design of English stops, too, since they appear on his own card (Figure 1.6). These were highly profitable as they needed replacing, often annually; in 1775 Sir Gilbert Heathcote (1723–85) ordered a new chimney board for Ancaster, ‘stain’d with Black Catgutt & a fine India Flower Pott cut out & put on Do with Bamboo Border Round’ at a cost of £1.11s.6d.100 Regular demand meant they were readily imitated; a chimney blind of c.1769 combines the format of the vase with miniaturised Chinese figures riding ducks (Plate 8). Chinese wallpapers and their English imitations raise questions about the perception of wallpaper in the chinoiserie interior and the eighteenth-century home more widely. The qualities which contemporaries admired in Chinese wallpaper were not just luxurious ‘Eastern splendour’ but included authenticity, colour and novelty – marking them out, as we shall see in the following chapters, from other groups of English made wallpapers. Moreover, unlike the chinoiserie goods which were seen against them, such as ceramics placed on a shelf for display, wallpaper involved a

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 83 costly and sometimes fraught process of purchase and hanging. This stimulated new networks of supply and installation, but also revealed tensions between tradesmen, architects and consumers. Chinese wallpapers have also been marked out by their associations with aristocratic women and the upper rooms of the country house, an association which did certainly exist. On the one hand they posed a threat to order, both in the natural world and in male and female relations in the home. However, this association also needs to be seen against familial networks of consumption and to take account of nuances around particular schemes, such as the creation of bespoke interiors in the dressing room. Nor were they just hung by women; men hung both Chinese wallpapers and ‘print room’ schemes and these men were not only aristocratic, but included a banker and a brewer. The category of India paper goods for the wall was also much wider than wallpaper alone, encompassing individual pictures as well as plain papers and prints used as room decorations. Mock India papers adapted these formats, on the one hand imitating Chinese designs and technology, but on the other hand re-inventing its format and motifs to create new products. Nor was this a one-way trade: Chinese manufacturers responded to European demand for botanical accuracy and disguised, or sometimes revealed, their ability to use repeating patterns as well as create continuous landscapes. Rooted in the trade in luxury imports, both types of wallpapers, India paper and mock India paper, offered consumers the opportunity to fashion themselves against a backdrop of this new fashionable material.

Notes 1 The only study of Chinese wallpaper in Europe is Friederike Wappenschmidt, Chinesische Tapeten für Europa (Berlin: Deutsche Verlag für Kunstwissenschaft, 1989). In addition to the National Trust catalogue mentioned in the Introduction, as this book went to press the following volume was due to be published: Emile De Bruijn, Chinese Wallpaper in Britain and Ireland (London: Philip Wilson Publishers, 2017). Recent essays on Chinese wallpaper include Clare Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations in Eighteenth-Century Britain’ in New Discoveries, New Research: Papers from the International Wallpaper Conference at the Nordiska Museet, Stockholm, 2007, ed. Elisabet Stavelow-Hidemark (Stockholm: The Nordiska Museet, 2009), 36–53; Gill Saunders, ‘The China Trade: Oriental Painted Panels’ in The Papered Wall, ed. Lesley Hoskins (London: Thames and Hudson, second edn, 2005), 42–55; Joanna Kosuda-Warner with Elizabeth Johnson, Landscape Wallcoverings (New York: Scala in association with Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum, Smithsonian Institution, 2001); see also notes 8 and 48. 2 Emily J. Climenson, ed., Elizabeth Montagu (London: John Murray, 1906), Vol. 2, 105. 3 David Porter, ‘A Wanton Chase in a Foreign Place: Hogarth and the Gendering of Exoticism in the Eighteenth-Century Interior’ in Furnishing the Eighteenth Century, What Furniture can Tell us About the European and American Past, ed. Dena Goodman and Kathryn Norberg (New York and London: Routledge, 2007), 49–60. 4 Stacey Sloboda, Chinoiserie: Commerce and Critical Ornament in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2014), 85. 5 William Sargent, ‘Asia in Europe: Chinese paintings for the West’ in Encounters: The Meeting of Asia and Europe 1500–1800, ed. Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer (London: V&A Publications, 2003), 274–78; Craig Clunas, Chinese Export Art and Design (London: V&A Museum, 1987), 114. 6 Quoted in Saunders, ‘The China Trade’, 260, note 5. 7 David Porter, ‘Monstrous Beauty: Eighteenth Century Fashion and the Aesthetics of the Chinese taste’ Eighteenth-Century Studies 35, no.3 (2002), 398. 8 For more on this issue see Clare Taylor, ‘Creative Interactions: Chinoiserie in EighteenthCentury Britain’ in Art, Commerce and Colonialism 1600–1800, ed. Emma Barker (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017), 115–51.

84  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 9 Bert De Munck and Dreies Lyna, eds., Concepts of Value in European Material Culture, 1500–1900 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015), 3–8. 10 The Wallpaper History Society Newsletter November 1999, 4. 11 Public Advertiser 29 March 1769, Burney. 12 For more on colour see Vanessa Alayrac-Fielding, ‘“Luscious Colors and Glossy Paint”: The taste for China and the Consumption of Color in Eighteenth-Century England’ in The Materiality of Color, ed. Andrea Feeser, Maureen Daly Goggin and Beth Fowkes Tobin (Aldershot: Ashgate), 81–97. 13 Bill from Thomas Bromwich, 22 May 1753, Stonor Archives. 14 J.A. Home, ed., The Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1889–96), Vol. 1, 61. 15 William Bray, Sketch of a Tour into Derbyshire and Yorkshire (London: 1783, ECCO), 251. 16 Gazette & New Daily Advertiser, 11 December 1781, Burney. 17 Home, Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke, Vol. 4, 137. 18 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Captain Cheyne, 27 December 1756, Dalemain. 19 See Taylor, ‘Creative Interactions’, 128. 20 Gazeteer, 8 November 1756, Burney. 21 See for example Daily Advertiser, 9 September 1777 for John Moore; 1762 Chelsea china sale, Public Advertiser 20 April 1762, Burney. 22 Ambrose Heal, London Tradesmen’s Cards of the XVIII Century: An Account of their Origin and Use (London: Batsford, 1925), 55; Bod., JJC, Trade Cards 24 (85); BM, HC 91.57 dated by Heal to c.1740–50. 23 Trade card of Thomas Bromwich, c.1748, BM, HC 91.5. 24 Eloy Koldeweij, ‘Gilt Leather Hangings in Chinoiserie and other Styles: An English Speciality’ Furniture History 36 (2000), 75. 25 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Lord Coventry, 1757, Croome Accounts 705.73 14450 208/69, Worcestershire Archives. 26 I am grateful to Lucy Johnson for this reference. 27 Diana Newall, ed., Art and its Global Histories: A Reader (Manchester: Manchester University Press in association with the Open University, 2017), 126. 28 Letter from Thomas Bromwich to John Grimston, July 1753, quoted in Edward Ingram, Leaves from a Family Tree (London and Hull: A. Brown, 1951), 48. 29 However, I have found only one reference to a plan being used for an English-made wallpaper, see Plate 20. 30 Christopher Gilbert, The Life and Work of Thomas Chippendale (London: Studio Vista, 1978), Vol. 1, 211–12. 31 Emile de Bruijn, Andrew Bush and Helen Clifford, Catalogue to Chinese Wallpapers in National Trust Houses (Swindon: The National Trust, 2014), 17, note 29; David Mason (Land Agent at the time the National Trust took over the house), interview by author, 2 August 2006. 32 Letters William Windham to Robert Frary, Sept 1751–April 1752, copies in V&A Furniture, Dress and Textiles Dept files; R.W. Kelton-Cremer, Felbrigg: The Story of a House (London: Century in association with The National Trust, 1986), 133; John Cornforth ‘A Role for Chinoiserie?’ Country Life (7 December, 1989), 148. 33 Taylor, ‘Chinese papers and English Imitations’, 43–44; de Bruijn, Bush and Clifford, Chinese Wallpaper, cat. 17 note 31. 34 Thomas Chippendale, The Gentleman and Cabinet-maker’s Director: Being a Large Collection of the Most Elegant and Useful Designs of Household Furniture, 3rd edn (London: 1762, ECCO), 4. 35 Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), 45; Gilbert, Chippendale, Vol. 1, 171. For a discussion of this scheme see Sloboda, Chinoiserie, 82–85. 36 Letters and bills, Thomas Bromwich to Thomas Ryder and Ryder to Lady Suffolk, c.1755, Papers re Marble Hill 8862, 21 F4, Norfolk Record Office. 37 Christopher Gilbert and Geoffrey Beard, eds, Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (Leeds: Furniture History Society, 1986), 387–89; Geoffrey Beard, ‘The Quest for William

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 85 Hallett’ Furniture History 21 (1985): 220–25; Anthony Coleridge, ‘A Reappraisal of William Hallett’ Furniture History 1 (1965): 12; Ralph Edwards and Margaret Jourdain, ‘Georgian Cabinet-Makers VIII – Giles Grendey and William Hallett’ Country Life (24 July 1942), 176–77. 38 Richard Owen Cambridge, ‘An Elegy Written in an Empty Assembly Room’ in Literature Online, http://lion.chadwick.co.uk. 39 Anon., Britannica Curiosa (London: 1776, ECCO), Vol. 3, 370. 40 Mrs Delany to Mrs Dewes, Cornbury, 30 October 1746, in Llanover, The Autobiography and Correspondence, 4, 137; quoted in Rosemary Baird, Mistress of the House: Great Ladies and Grand Houses 1670–1830 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2000), 57, where the description is attributed to Delville. 41 Elizabeth Bonhote, Ellen Woodley (London: 1790, ECCO), Vol. 2, 32–33. 42 Quoted in Oliver Garnett, Blicking Hall (Swindon: The National Trust, 1987), 48. 43 Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations’, 47. 44 Anon., Conservation of the Chinese Wallpaper in the Chinese Bedroom, n.d., National Trust Blickling files. 45 Eileen Harris, The Genius of Robert Adam: His Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2001), 181. On Kenwood see Jerzy J. Kierkúc-Bieliński, ‘“Beyond the True Taste”: Robert Adam, Sefferin Nelson and Chinoiserie at Kenwood’ Furniture History 52 (2016): 89–110. 46 See de Bruijn, Bush and Clifford, Chinese Wallpaper, cat. 6. 47 Sloboda, Chinoiserie, 85. Fragments of a floral Chinese paper survive from the suite at Blickling. 48 For another scheme linked to Felbrigg see Clare Taylor, ‘“Painted Paper of Pekin”: The Taste for Eighteenth-Century Chinese Wallpapers in Britain, c.1918–c.1945’ in The Reception of Chinese Art across Cultures, ed. Michelle Ying-Ling Huang (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014), 55. 49 Quoted in Margaret Jourdain and Roger Soame-Jenyns, Chinese Export Art in the Eighteenth Century (Feltham: Spring Books, 1967), 29, note 5. 50 Ibid. 51 Beth Fowkes Tobin, Colonizing Nature: The Tropics in British Art & Letters, 1760–1820 (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005), Chapter 6 especially 170–72. 52 In the 1960s examples of the papers were donated to Wycombe Museum, Bucks County Museum & the V&A see C.C. Oman and Jean Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cats 653 and 677–78. 53 ‘An Account of what the goods at Hampden House have cost me,’ MS/D/MH Stewards Accounts/Bundle 39/Item 64j-k, Papers of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, Buckinghamshire Record Office. 54 Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations’, 50. 55 Chi-ming Yang, ‘Virtue’s Vogues: Eastern Authenticity and the Commodification of Chineseness on the 18th-Century Stage’ Comparative Literature Studies 39, no. 2 (2002), 341. 56 Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, 60 and 77, note 163. 57 Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations’, 52. For more on the design see Chapter 5. 58 The papier mâché is discussed in Chapter 5. 59 Bill from Bromwich & Leigh to Lord Leigh, 1763–64, Leigh papers DR 18/5/4402, Shakespeare Birthplace Archives. 60 For a discussion of plain papers and gilt frames see Chapter 4. 61 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to William Blaithwaite, July 1769, Dyrham Park Archives, A364 1771, Gloucestershire Archives. 62 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Lord Coventry, 1757, Coventry family papers 705.73 14450 208/69, Worcestershire Archives. 63 I am grateful to Lucy Johnson for this information. 64 For more on the Woburn schemes see Clifford, ‘Chinese Wallpaper: An Elusive Element in the British Country House’, East India Company at Home (August 2014), http://blogs.ucl. ac.uk/eicah/files/2014/07/EIC-Chinese-Wallpaper-PDF-Final-19.08.14.pdf. 65 Bill from Crompton & Spinnage to Duke of Bedford, 1751–52, NMR2.35.1–B.16, Woburn Abbey Archives.

86  Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 66 Gazette, 1 February 1768, Burney; on Woodcock see Chapter 2. 67 Amanda Vickery, ‘The Theory and Practice of Female Accomplishment’, in Mrs Delany and her Circle, ed. Mark Laird and Alicia Weinberg-Roberts (New Haven, CT and London: Yale Center for British Art/Sir John Soane’s Museum in association with Yale University Press, 2009), 102. 68 Mrs Delany to Mrs Bernard Granville, 11 June 1751, in The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs Delany, ed. Lady Llanover (London: Richard Bentley, 1861), 3, 39–40. 69 Emily Climenson, ed., Passages from the Diary of Mrs Philip Lybbe Powys (London, New York and Bombay: Longmans, Green & Co, 1899), 139, 147–48; Geoffrey Tyack, ‘The Freemans of Fawley and their Buildings’ Records of Bucks 24 (1982), 130–43. 70 For more on the print room see Chapter 5. 71 Account book of the fourth Earl of Cardigan, quoted by H. Avray Tipping, ‘Saltram – II’ Country Life (30 January 30 1926), 163. 72 ‘An Account of what the Goods at Hampden House have cost me’, Stewards Accounts/ Bundle 32/item 16/7a, Papers of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, MS/D/MH, Bucks County Archives. 73 Letter to Sir Horace Mann, 2 August 1750, quoted in C.C. Oman, ‘English Chinoiserie Wallpapers’ Country Life (11 February 1933, 150–51), who claims this was designed by Walpole. 74 Climenson, Passages from the Diary, 146–47. 75 Francis Coventry, The History of Pompey the Little, London, 1751, Book 2, Chapter 3. 76 Lady Shelburne’s Diaries, 16 January 1769, Vol. 3, 205, Shelburne Papers, Bowood Archives. 77 Stacey Sloboda, ‘Fashioning Bluestocking Conversation: Elizabeth Montagu’s Chinese Room’ in Architectural Space in Eighteenth-Century Europe, ed. Denise Amy Baxter and Meredith Martin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2010), 137–41 and Sloboda, Chinoiserie, 137–44. The room’s complex scheme is also discussed in David Pullins, ‘Reassessing Elizabeth Montagu’s Architectural Patronage at 23 Hill Street, London’, Burlington Magazine CL (June 2008), 400–2. 78 London Courant Westminster Chronicle & New Daily Advertiser, 23 April 1782, Burney. For another scheme associated with the Ambassador see Chapter 4. 79 World, 18 August 1787, Burney. 80 Helen Robbins, Our First Ambassador to China: An Account of the Life of George, Earl of Macartney (London: John Murray, 1908), 142, 442. 81 Ernest Hartley Coleridge, The Life of Thomas Coutts: Banker (London: Bodley Head, 1920), 46. 82 Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 672. 83 Maxine Berg, ‘“The Merest Shadow of a Commodity”: Indian Muslins for European Markets 1750–1800’ in Goods from the East: Trading Eurasia, ed. Maxine Berg (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 122–23. 84 Michael E. Yonan, ‘Igneous Architecture: Porcelain, Natural Philosophy, and the Rococo Cabinet Chinois’, in The Cultural Aesthetics of Eighteenth-Century Porcelain eds. Michael E. Yonan and Alden Cavanaugh (Farnham and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2010), 74. 85 London Evening Post, 17–19 January, Burney. 86 Gazette, 22 July 1765, Burney. 87 Quoted in Lucy Wood, ‘Furniture for Lord Delavel’ Furniture History 26 (1990), 202. 88 Natacha Coquery, ‘Selling India and China in Eighteenth-Century Paris’ in Goods from the East: Trading Eurasia, ed. Maxine Berg (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 236–37. 89 See for example Westminster Evening Post, 15 April 1755, Burney. 90 See Taylor, ‘Chinese Papers and English Imitations’, 41–43. 91 In July 1993 a daughter of a later owner visited the V&A and reported that the house had originally contained a powdering closet with shell form ceiling and ‘connected wig brackets like the chimneypiece’. This had been removed in the early twentieth century, see note in Berkeley House file, V& A Furniture, Dress & Textiles Dept. The wallpaper formerly had a fretwork pattern border, at a later date replaced with the printed edging of floral festoons, see letter to the museum from F.C. Harper, 1920, V&A, Registered Files (W.93–1924).

Imitation and the cross-cultural encounter 87 92 BM, BC 91.9, 1770s; Public Advertiser, 7 January, 1754, Burney. 93 Patent BM, BC 91.9. 94 BM, HC 91.48. 95 Public Advertiser, 23 March 1756, Burney. 96 Will of Richard Masefield, NA PROB 11/1158/16. 97 Gill Saunders, Wallpaper in Interior Decoration (London: V&A Publications, 2002), 72; Susan Lambert, ed., Pattern and Design: Designs for the Decorative Arts 1480–1980 (London: Victoria & Albert Museum, 1983), pls 1.7a, 1.7b. 98 Natasha Eaton, ‘Nostalgia for the Exotic: Creating an Imperial Art in London, 1750–1793’ Eighteenth-Century Studies 39, no. 2 (Winter 2006): 227–50. 99 Nathalie Hamel, ‘Un papier peint inspire de L’Orient dans une ville colonial d’amérique: Présence de la chinoiserie dans la maison estèbe à Québec au milieu du XVIII siècle’ Material Culture Review 68 (Fall 2008), 19–33. 100 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Sir Gilbert Heathcote, 1775–77, Ancaster Papers, 2-ANC/12/D/32/2, Lincolnshire Archives.

4 In search of propriety Flocks and plains

This chapter discusses finishes which were in many ways the opposite to the Chinese and Chinese style wallpapers discussed in Chapter 3. Flocks and plains offered decoration with materials which could evoke propriety, but, unlike Chinese and Chinese style wallpapers, they could also work with pictures on the wall and exactly imitate textiles in their pattern or tints. Both were popular finishes in the confined spaces of urban life, although they were also hung in the country house, but neither has been much studied in Britain and there is no single account of either finish. I argue that flocks and plains alike played a significant role in conveying domestic sociability within codes of polite behaviour, which needed both to demonstrate propriety and smooth social interactions. As Lawrence Klein points out ‘the polite was associated with decorum in behaviour and personal style. But this consciousness of good form could be extended from actions to things and thus became associated with taste, fashion and design’. Polite behaviour also encouraged new forms of sociability and in turn this promoted both new spaces where these finishes could be used (notably the parlour and drawing room) as well as allowing them to mark out old spaces used in new ways, such as the bedchamber and dressing room and even the heir’s nursery. Another, related, quality often highlighted in relation to propriety is neatness. Neat is what Vickery has called ‘a Georgian key-word of unexpectedly wide social purchase, one which carried wider connotations of domestic virtue, propriety and cleanliness’.1 She sums it up as ‘a low-key elegance that refrained from glitter and unseemly show . . . Neat but not too showy was the established stylistic register of the sober middle ranks by 1790’.2 Neatness was used in very particular ways in relation to wallpaper. As early as 1699 John Houghton described ‘diverse’ sorts of paper available printed for hanging rooms, adding that ‘they are very pretty, and make the houses of the more ordinary people look neat’.3 ‘Neat’ continued to be used in relation to hanging paper (‘neatly put up’), reflecting, I argue, its usage to connote what Vickery has also termed well-executed integrity of design. This is, however, at odds with the associations listed by the architectural writer Isaac Ware (c.1717–66) in his Of Decorations for the Sides of Rooms. In Ware’s list of decorations stucco came first, according to him not only ‘the grandest’ finish but also the most elegant; secondly wainscot, described as ‘the neatest’ finish; and finally hangings (in which he included paper and textiles) and which he thought the ‘most gaudy’. After setting out the practical considerations for the choice of each of these three finishes, he advised his readers: ‘This will be a farther guide to the architect in his choice; for there are apartments in which dignity, others in which neatness, and others in which shew are to be consulted’. Paper hangings are associated then with the ‘most gaudy’ taste, the antithesis of what

In search of propriety 89 is perceived as elegant, conveying not dignity but ‘shew’. In practice not everyone felt that dignity need be undermined by their choice of paper, indeed seizing on neatness may have been a means both to circumvent the nascent role of the architect to exercise control over the interior, and further undermine wainscot. A second way in which the term ‘neat’ is used in association with wallpaper is in notices of house sales whose language was intended to communicate the norms and ideals of domestic material culture; ‘neat’, ‘elegant’ and ‘genteel’ signaled a departure from the vulgar and unfashionable.5 Paper hangings were frequently described as ‘neat’, and listed alongside other fittings such as marble chimneypieces and stucco cornices. This term was used for wallpapers hung by a wide range of the social spectrum, from a house owned by the late Earl of Charterville on Dover Street with eight rooms on each floor, to a ‘neat, well built brick dwelling’ on Carington Street near Mayfair where Mr Price, a tailor, tenanted a room over the yard.6 ‘Neat’ could also mean economical and even cheap, and the opposite of grandeur and excess, and again this quality had associations with wallpaper. The London paper manufacturers and hangers Dobson and Hayward clearly knew the value their potential customers placed on neatness combined with price in their 1791 trade card where they offered ‘Rooms papered or coloured in Town or Country in the neatest manner and on the lowest terms’.7 Consumers also noted this; Elizabeth Montagu conceived the decoration of her friend Mrs Cotes’ house very differently to the luxury imports with which she had furnished her own ‘Temple’ at Hill Street: ‘I think with her economy she might afford herself a house of her own, and she might furnish it in the present fashion, of some cheap paper and ornaments of Chelsea china or the manufacture of Bow, which makes a room look neat and finished’.8 It was not only printed wallpapers that could be described as ‘neat’. Some small-scale flocks were also described as ‘neat’ and these are likely to be derived from the patterns of printed papers themselves, or cotton or silk textiles. For example, in 1767–68 Thomas Chippendale supplied six flocks to Sir Rowland Winn at Nostell Priory in Yorkshire, including a ‘very neat small pattern flock intermixd with white flowers & c’ itself hung with a much more elaborate two-colour flock.9 4

Flocks and mock flocks: in search of colour, pattern and texture It was accuracy in matching textiles that was key to flocks’ success, since they allowed wallpaper to imitate costly textiles such as silk damask (and later cut velvet), at a fraction of the cost. Flocks do, however, present a complex picture of imitation, as new semi-luxury goods. One aspect of this is what Scott has identified as a link between the so-called fine and decorative arts in textiles, in which the design-aware viewer of eighteenth-century silks was able to ‘read’ the fabric in relation to other materials, other arts and other traditions.10 The complex ways in which eighteenthcentury flock was ‘read’ in terms of texture, colour and pattern is therefore explored here, showing how flocks spread from the bedchamber and dressing room in order, by the 1770s, to be deemed acceptable in new spaces of sociability. I argue that in these spaces it was often flocks that set the decorative agenda both in terms of colour and style, notably the large-scale patterns available from the 1730s onwards that complemented Palladian interiors. Flocks also had their own imitations in paper hangings, which can shed further light on how the material was perceived. Known as ‘Counterfeit’ or ‘Mc’ [mock] flocks, this hitherto ignored category of wallpapers

90  In search of propriety were printed using the same blocks as flocks, but with powdered colour rather than wool clippings sprinkled over the adhesive. Flocks did demand greater investment in manufacture than block prints. First, machinery was needed to prepare the ‘flock-powder’, made from dyed wool clippings which had been finely cut ‘with an Engine’. Second, a supply of fine rectangular sieves, known as flocking fences, were needed for shaking the powder onto prepared paper. The powder adhered to areas previously printed, or painted through a stencil, with adhesive. According to Robert Campbell, author of the London Tradesman of 1757, the flock needed to be applied while the ground was ‘yet wet’, so achieving the right consistency of adhesive to allow the ground to successfully take the powder was crucial. The surplus powder was then shaken off, taking care not to dislodge that stuck to the ground. As with block printing, different colours of flock were applied one by one, Campbell’s description suggesting that up to three (red, green and blue) could be used.11 This gave the flock additional depth and enabled it to imitate not only the patterns but also the three-dimensional effects of textiles such as cut velvet. In reality, even two-colour flocks seem to have been quite rare and purchased only by consumers at the top end of the market. As mentioned above, two-colour flocks were also amongst those Thomas Chippendale supplied to Sir Rowland Winn for Nostell, which included two crimson and yellow patterns, one described as ‘Norfolk’ and costing 9 shillings per piece, possibly the same design he supplied to Sir William Robinson for his London house.12 Once distemper colours became widely available flocking over a block printed ground became more common, which gave a similar effect of depth but at a lesser cost.13 Finally, varnish could be applied to enhance the contrast between the ground and the matt flock, which also enabled the flock to imitate the sheen of damask. Since flock wallpapers imitated textile designs it is not surprising that their manufacture was combined with the embossing of textiles, indeed Rosoman has linked one pattern to examples of embossed serge.14 Evidence of tradesmen combining the embossing of textiles with paper hangings is provided by the example of Thomas Brentnall, described as a stationer and embosser, whose premises included ‘a large workshop for imbossing of Flannels, with Warehouses and other Conveniences, for the manufacturing of Paper Hangings’.15 A large workshop was essential because of the equipment needed, not just wood blocks but flocking fences. Some insights into the quantities required is provided by the example of Yates & Barnes, whose 1776 auctioned stock included ‘four hundred gross of cloth folding fences, flocking fences and pasteboards’.16 The product also, of course, needed a plentiful supply of treated cut wool, and here it was seemingly the paper making rather than the wool trade who capitalised on demand, for example William Demezal who was a paper maker and flock manufacturer as well as a stationer. Flocks were produced from the early years of the century, indeed before colour printing in distemper was widespread, although this was not the only factor behind flocks’ early dominance. Firstly, it was related to the imitation of other textiles. An association with woollen textiles was present in the products of two names associated with flocks’ early manufacture and sale, Robert Dunbar and Abraham Price, both with warehouses on Aldermanbury. In the early 1750s S. Dunbar styled his predecessor, Robert Dunbar, as ‘the Original Maker of Emboss’d Paper Hangings’.17 Price’s Blue Paper Warehouse was also established at an early date, part of the Blue Paper Company, based on a fourteen-year patent granted to William Bayly in November, 1691, for printing paper ‘with all sorts of figures and colours by several engines made

In search of propriety 91 of brass, without paint or stain, which will be useful for hanging in rooms’. The reference to an engine implies that heat was involved in embossing and shaping the paper in some way.18 As early as 1706 Price was advertising ‘a curious sort of flock work, in imitation of Caffaws’, a woollen textile associated with East Anglia.19 Two flocks are illustrated hung on the shutters outside the premises on his trade card (Figure 1.3), one of which, at the extreme left, is a distinctive castellated design made up of pasted sheets, which imitated velvet or caffoy, supporting Price’s claims. The castellated pattern has been found flocked in a number of different colourways including red (Plate 2); and in dark green on a varnished green ground at Gwernhaylod, Overton-on-Dee.20 A more telling example comes from Strawberry Hill near Twickenham, where Walpole hung a crimson flock and placed chairs upholstered in ‘Norwich damask’ (perhaps caffoy) in the Red Bedchamber, suggesting a deliberate desire to echo the pattern and finish on the walls in the seat upholstery.21 So just as caffoy itself copied continental silk velvet or damask, it is possible that flocks supplied a model for imitation of other materials.22 The other formalised damask shown at the extreme right on Price’s trade card might be the fragment flocked in red found at cornice height in a room of a house on Wallbridge in Stroud which was re-fronted and remodelled internally in 1714.23 Nor were Dunbar and Price the only suppliers at this early date, since paper hangings for rooms including ‘flock work’ were available from the stationers W. Water, J. Lenthal and J. Mayo at ‘the Talbot near the Mitre Tavern’ and on Fleet Street by 1708, advertised alongside patterns imitating wainscot, irish-stitch and ‘mohair’.24 The manufacture of flock then remained linked to those specialising in imitation of textiles. However, it was the advent of the ‘piece’ that allowed the creation of patterns where the repeat exceeded a single sheet, enabling flocks to imitate large scale textile designs in brocade, damask and cut velvet from the 1730s onwards. The firm of Harford’s on Cheapside were clear what gave their ‘Curious Embost Papers’ the commercial edge; it was their ability not to match caffoy but to imitate cut velvets that was singled out on their trade card. It is perhaps significant too that Harford’s offered to match customers’ linen, cotton and silk damask patterns, giving them a ready supply of new designs, as well as a bespoke service.25 It has been estimated that by the 1740s although lower grade flocks were still far from being cheap (around 4 shillings per yard) they were a third of the price of silk damask, and less that one fifth of the cost of cut velvet. However, there are difficulties in comparing accounts for flocks, not only because, like printed wallpapers, they are sometimes priced per yard and sometimes priced per piece, but also because bills contain few clues to the design’s scale and complexity. What is clear is that by the 1760s consumers were able to purchase wider grades of flock; Chippendale’s bills for Nostell Priory in Yorkshire between 1760–68 ranged from flocks priced from 3–6 shillings per piece and 9d. per yard in 1760 to 9 shillings per piece for a yellow flock described as ‘embossd’ in 1768.26 It is also clear that large-scale flocks were amongst the most expensive papers to supply and hang, only exceeded by Chinese wallpapers. In part this was due to the labour-intensive hanging methods they required. Study of Bromwich’s bills from the late 1740s to the 1780s sheds further light on this and the costs involved. Flocks were usually nailed over stretched ‘linen’, sometimes supplied by Bromwich’s and described either as ‘new’ (available in special widths) or ‘old’ (i.e. re-used, perhaps the customer’s own). The firm always billed for hanging a cartridge paper under flock, adding between 4–5d. per yard to the put-up cost.27 This bears out the discoveries in the Red

92  In search of propriety Drawing Room at Uppark in West Sussex in the 1990s, where Allyson McDermott found the walls had been lined with a loose weave hessian type fabric stitched together horizontally into strips and then tacked onto the walls, over which lining paper was hung, a task almost certainly carried out by Bromwich’s.28 Certain parts of a room might also require different hanging methods, for example on smaller and less visible areas such as over-doors the flock was simply pasted up rather than nailed on. In 1786 at Audley End in Essex Isherwood & Bradley’s summer hang included 278 yards of varnished ground crimson embossed paper hung in a bedroom and dressing room, while the green flock hung in another room in the North wing required not just paper underneath it but new linen, at a cost of £16–£17 per scheme.29 As with printed wallpapers, attempts were made to reduce costs. In the drawing room at Doddington Hall in Lincolnshire quantities were reduced when a damask pattern (the same at that hung by Chippendale in Soho Square), flocked in blue on a blue printed ground, was hung in the 1760s.30 This was achieved by leaving the spaces behind the pictures blank; evidently the hang was carefully planned and there was seen to be no need to extend this expensive pattern behind the frames, a practice which was repeated elsewhere.31 Flocks’ texture and thickness also meant that it was far more durable than printed papers. In part this may be because more attention was paid to hanging and the flock’s surface was robust. In turn it could be difficult (and costly) to take down; for example at Croome Court, Worcestershire, it took Bromwich’s man five days to remove the old flock from a bedroom and its closet in 1780, over double the time it took to remove printed papers from the walls of a bedroom or dressing room. What this did mean is that, like Chinese wallpaper, flock could be re-used as happened at Shardeloes in Buckinghamshire where Bromwich’s men were rehanging an ‘old’ flock paper in the garrets in 1777, perhaps that which they had earlier stripped from the parlour itself, to be rehung in green flock.32 Such was flock’s durability that the ground could be touched up and even patched when damaged, work which was judged worthwhile even by aristocratic clients, but also demanded the skills of leading firms.33 Although the fashion for flock was enduring the surviving range of large scale flock patterns is a narrow one. Why might this be so and is it just an accident of survival? Certainly cost was a factor, but it was not only the costs of designing and making a flock, preparing the walls, and then hanging, but also the scale of formal patterns’ repeats. This meant that their use was confined to consumers with both the necessary resources and spaces suited to decorating with patterns on a vast scale, consumers who used the designs to reinforce their cultural capital. The names of flock patterns supplied to aristocratic clients support this conclusion: for example Chippendale’s bill for flocks at Nostell in 1768 included ‘Norfolk’ in two colourways.34 ‘Albemarl’ or ‘Lord Albemarle’ was evidently another long-lived pattern with currency across this group. In 1740 Robert Dunbar supplied Lord Cardigan with 247 yards of ‘Lord Albemarle’ in two colourways (blues and reds), both on a yellow ground, while some twenty years later ‘Albemarl’ in crimson was hung in the nursery and closet at Croome by Crompton & Spinnage.35 It is also tempting to associate the sixteen pieces of ‘Montague’ green damask paper John Linnell supplied to Thomas Samuel Joliffe (1746–1824) for Ammerdown House, Somerset, in 1796 with Elizabeth Montagu.36 In these designs, variety was introduced not by pattern but by colour choice. Dyeing flock was a much cheaper option than cutting new blocks or stencils, but equally these restrictions ensured that the cultural capital carried by these designs was not diluted.

In search of propriety 93 Green and crimson appear most frequently in both bills and surviving examples from the 1730s and 1740s, with some references to yellow. Blue appears only later, from the 1760s, which may reflect the availability and popularity of Prussian blue. Bromwich’s ‘Saxon blue’ for example seems to have been particularly valued, chosen by the Coventrys in 1762, complementing plain blue coloured closets, and in 1773 by John Radcliffe of Hitchin Priory in Hertfordshire, for whom Bromwich’s hung the colour in a flock in the Music Room and a stripe in a bedchamber and dressing room.37 Similarly at Strawberry Hill Walpole chose blue for the rooms facing the river including a brilliant blue flock in his bedchamber off the upper landing, completed in 1755, a colour which may have imitated Venetian damask.38 Flocks were also exported, not only to France but also to the Northern states of America.39 William Squire’s account for papers sent to General Schuyler for the Schuyler Mansion in Albany, New York, in 1764 included no less than seven sets of flock paper.40 These were in several colourways but just three patterns: ‘Tulip’ in both green and yellow, ‘Royal caffy [caffoy]’ in both blue and crimson, and a pattern described simply as ‘New flock’ in yellow.41 The names related to either the material they imitated (caffoy), to novelty (new), or the visual effects of patterns (tulip). Further evidence of the latter comes from Robert Stark who supplied a ‘festoon flock’ to Mr Vezean in 1782, suggesting that it was becoming important to use terms consumers could visualise and also that the emulation of aristocratic taste was becoming less important than the fashionable and the new.42 The appeal of flocks has often been characterised as their ability to imitate costly textiles at a lesser price. However, the relationship between colour and texture is another area that merits scrutiny. Although flocks might be admired by Schuyler and in France, in the Southern state of Virginia Lady Skipwith told her London agent in 1795 that ‘velvet [i.e. flock] paper I think looks too warm for this country’.43 Of course the reverse was true in more Northerly climes; Thomas Gray’s orders for his friend Thomas Wharton’s house, Old Park in County Durham, in 1761 included a blue mohair flock perhaps chosen with winters in the North East in mind. Although Gray feared it would be seen as extravagant (at 1 shilling per yard), he admitted that ‘it was so handsome, and looked so warm, I could not resist it’.44 Crimson flocks in particular imparted qualities of warmth in both colour and texture, which may explain this choice of colourway in the north- or east-facing rooms at both Audley End in Essex and Clandon Park in Surrey. However, detailed study of the sites where flocks were chosen also reveals how large scale flock designs available by the late 1730s could be used to create both classical and Rococo moods in decoration. Large scale designs whose symmetrical patterns gave a strong sense of verticality were chosen to complement the classical interiors at Clandon in Surrey. Acquired by the Onslow family in the 1640s on account of its convenient situation for court, rebuilding of the house by the architect Giacomo Leoni unleashed a frenzy of decoration, and a particular taste for flocks. These were hung in both formalised damask patterns, complementing the Palladian architecture, and in patterns which were more informal and Rococo in mood. They were chosen for a bedchamber and dressing room on the first floor, as well as family lodgings on the top floor where a formal damask pattern in green on green with a Greek key flocked border was hung.45 In the first floor bedchamber, facing east, a formalised damask design based on pomegranates with a vast repeat (83 inches or 2.1 metres) was hung in c.1735, again with a Greek key pattern flock border (Plate 9). Extending from dado height to cornice the design

94  In search of propriety was carefully scaled so the main motif repeats twice in each length, minimising costly wastage and also complementing the room’s symmetry. Flocked in what was originally a vibrant pink on a crimson ground, variety was introduced by applying the flock more densely in some areas to enhance the design and by alternating stencilling with flocking on the leaves to suggest shading. The ground was also varnished, a technique used for principal bedchambers elsewhere.46 Wells-Cole has suggested the design was derived from a silk damask, but notes the same design was also found in a velvet which survives at Holkham Hall in Norfolk.47 This suggests that large scale flocks had already proven popular in a number of different textiles. The Red chamber pomegranate design is one of the best known of eighteenthcentury flock designs, often called the ‘Privy Council’ flock since it was discovered on the walls of the Council’s chamber in Whitehall in 1922. In the eighteenth century it was hung at palaces including Hampton Court and at country houses including Christchurch Mansion on the outskirts of the port town of Ipswich in Suffolk. Christchurch Mansion was acquired by a successful London cloth merchant, Claude Fornereau (1677–1740), in 1735. He and his son Thomas (1699–1799) added a new wing to the north-east corner of the mansion with a drawing room downstairs and State bedchamber above, and, as at Clandon, the Forneareaus made extensive use of flocks for these and other rooms.48 In the State bedchamber at the Mansion the verticality and formality of the room with its arched bed recess was accentuated by the vast pattern. Cornforth suggested the pattern was chosen ensuite with the bed hangings, although equally the reverse might true. There was certainly an attempt to unify the room visually, since the same flock was hung in the adjacent closets.49 In contrast to the Clandon example of the design, where the ground colour was complementary to the colour of the flock, at the Mansion the crimson (faded to brown) flock contrasted with the off white (now buff) ground. As at Clandon, there was evidently a particular taste for flocks at the Mansion, since another large-scale design (the repeat is over 1.5 metres) flocked in crimson on pink, now faded to brown on buff, survives in what was a first floor bedroom. However, if formalised damask designs were thought suitable for bedchambers and drawing rooms, other rooms in the country house showed a taste for more informal flock patterns characteristic of the Rococo, often combining yellow and blue. The State bedchamber paper was not the only pattern shared between Clandon and Christchurch Mansion, since on the opposite side of the stair to the State bedchamber at the Mansion a dressing room was hung with a yellow varnished ground paper, block printed in mid-blue verditer and flocked in blue in a scrolling pattern of pomegranates, foliage and exotic flowers with a Greek key border, one wall of which survives.50 The same pattern was hung in the dressing room (Figure 4.1) adjoining the Red chamber at Clandon and possibly in its adjacent ante-room.51 Wells-Cole has pointed out that these designs reflected taste for patterns derived from silks which relied for their appeal not on symmetry, but on movement and colour.52 Other textile influences were also felt in the Mansion’s small ground floor drawing room, or parlour, where a green flock on a green ground printed in blue with pin pricks of white in a scrolling serpentine pattern survives on the wall, a design derived not from silk, but from lace. Although its repeat (at around 1.2 metres) is still large, this is smaller in scale than the State bedchamber paper, and the design complements the Rococo-style over-mantel. The choice of flocks may also reflect the Fornereaus’ trading interests in cloth, through enjoyment of the play of texture and successful

In search of propriety 95

Figure 4.1  Dressing room adjoining the first floor bedchamber (see Plate 9) at Clandon Park, Surrey, hung c.1735, with stencilled and flocked wallpaper in blues on a yellow ground, English, photographed as the Museum Room c.1985.

imitation of actual textiles. However, as argued above, in flocks trends in pattern and colour are frequently repeated across country houses, suggesting that these designs may also have allowed the new owners to align themselves with the tastes of more established aristocratic families. One example of this may be the imagined interior in William Hogarth’s The Ladies Last Stake of 1759 (Plate 10). This depicts what Elizabeth Einberg has called the ‘fashionably modern’ saloon of a Palladian house, whose walls are devoid of Old Masters or family portraits. The fashionably modern may have been reinforced by depicting the walls as hung not with a damask, but with a blue flock imitating a damask, a design arranged symmetrically around a vertical axis which complemented Palladian architecture in saloons and long galleries.53 If flocks made inroads into the country house then what of London houses? Flocks were certainly being hung here by 1740 when Abraham Price hung 4 pieces of a ‘fine’ green ‘Imbost’ paper at 8s per piece with 4 dozen yards of borders for Alderman Robert Hucks on Great Russell Street.54 For flocks one obvious site was the stair where their vast repeats could be seen to advantage. By 1749 an extra wide width (26 inches)

96  In search of propriety of yellow ‘imboss’d’ was being supplied by Bromwich’s for the stairs and back room in Mr Bennett’s London house, perhaps to enable pattern matching on this prominent site for decoration in narrow London houses.55 By the 1770s flock had reached the library, where the historian Edward Gibbon hung ‘a fine shag flock paper, light blue with a gold border’ at 7 Bentinck Street in 1772.56 Flocks were also supplied in the 1760s for first floor rooms at 6 St James’s Place, Clerkenwell and 80 St John’s Street, Islington. These small repeat trellis or floral patterns used red or blue flock over block printing and stencilling in white/grey on a ground which echoed the flock colour, imitating the visual effects, if not the pattern scale, of grander designs. They were perhaps similar to the blue small patterned flock Mrs Kenyon chose for the 21 foot by 17 feet dining room of her new house at 18 Lincolns Inn Fields in 1774.57 From the 1760s to the 1780s flocks were also hung in the spaces of sociability of grand London houses. Comparison of purchases for London and country houses suggests the choice of flocks for their London house may have allowed aristocratic consumers to develop a taste for paper: for example, in the 1770s Sir John Cornewall (1720–66) was buying flocks for his London house from Jackson’s, possibly the woodcutter and printer John Baptist Jackson (c.1700–after 1773) who had a manufactory in Battersea in the 1750s.58 The quantities involved here could be vast. No less than 365 yards of green flock was needed to hang two parlours in the Shelburne’s London house in 1782, charged at 8½d. per yard, put up at 10d., and finished off with gilt and ‘berry’ mouldings and corner mitres.59 Chippendale supplied an even larger quantity, 414 yards of ‘crimson emboss’d paper’ at 9d. per yard, to decorate the walls above the dado in the first floor front and rear bedrooms of Sir William Robinson’s new house on Soho Square in 1760.60 Robinson’s taste for red flock endured into the 1770s when another red flock was hung on the first floor (Plate 11). Architects even seemingly recommended them, as seen in John Yenn’s design for ‘a Town House’ (Plate 12) where the blue patterned wallcovering in the drawing room or saloon on the right at first floor level is depicted with a dropped repeat, suggesting a flock rather than a silk damask. In these town settings, without a library of family portraits on the wall, large scale flocks in vibrant colours became a key part of the decoration. As with the taste for Chinese paper there is also evidence that successful townsfolk both inside and outside London took up the taste for flocks. The interior of the Ancient High House in Stafford was literally covered in paper in the 1760s by its prosperous new owner, Brooke Crutchley (d.1777) who sought to update the lath and plaster interior by the simple expedient of papering over timber and plaster alike, reflecting his own shift in status as he rose from apothecary to physician for the new town jail.61 Flocks were used in two rooms, the first floor rear room and on the attic storey room above. Here, a scrolling foliage design flocked in green on a blue ground (varnished in transparent green), and infilled with a white and grey block printed diaper pattern with a repeat of just 57 cms was hung. Similarly in his rented Coventry house James Hewitt (1709–89), another local official on his way up, wanted yellow paper matched to the damask in his street facing rooms in 1749, perhaps a flock or imitation flock.62 Imitation of flock itself was identified in bills as ‘Mc emboss’d’ or mock flock. There was a huge difference in price; in the late 1760s mock flocks were advertised as just 3d. per yard.63 Although these might be half the price of flocks, as discussed in Chapter 1 cost was not the only driver to their selection. What is interesting is that

In search of propriety 97

Figure 4.2  Mock flock wallpaper, c.1760–65, block printed in black, white and dark green on a green ground in imitation of flock, English, stamped ‘PAPER J’ (originally from a second floor rear room at 17, Albemarle Street, London).

both types of paper could be hung in the same house, in town and in the country. Was it just a question of hanging mock flocks in less prominent rooms? Sir William Robinson bought twelve pieces of green mock flock to hang on the second floor at the same time as he was hanging crimson flock on the more important first floor in his London house.64 However, at 17 Albemarle Street, off Piccadilly, the hierarchies were reversed. Here the same design as hung in a bedroom at Christchurch Mansion, this time dramatically coloured in dark blue flock on white, was hung in a second-floor rear room with a by no means lofty ceiling in c.1760–65. The flock’s thickness, even today, evidences that it could successfully imitate not only the patterns but also the three-dimensional texture of textiles. In contrast a very convincing green mock flock paper was hung on the more prestigious first floor, repeating the Rococo pattern hung in the drawing room at Christchurch Mansion (Figure 4.2). The purchase of both flocks and mock flocks is also seen in the example of James Leigh at Stoneleigh Abbey in Warwickshire. Leigh bought seven pieces of blue and white flock at 8 shillings per piece and eight pieces of crimson and white mock embossed paper at 4 shillings per piece from Bromwich & Leigh in 1762. Although these papers could have been for Stoneleigh or his London house, by the following year Bromwich’s were putting up mock flocks in suites of bedchambers and closets at Stoneleigh. Their price varied according to colour. Whereas ‘fine’ saxon blue was 6d. per yard, green was 4d. and yellow just 3½ d., and they all had a contrasting white ground, perhaps printed with a diaper pattern. Although these mock flocks were cheaper to buy they could still be costly to hang, between 5–7d. per yard using size alone, presumably depending on how complicated the pattern was to match. However, with a linen hung underneath onto which the mock flock was nailed, in a further imitation of flock’s hanging methods, the hanging price could rise to over 10d. per yard.65 Indeed, it seems

98  In search of propriety cost was not always a driver for the choice of mock flocks, since at Clandon the ground floor drawing room may have been hung in the 1730s with an imitation silk damask design, block printed in green on a green ground (Plate 13). Conservation revealed that the paper was individually printed before joining to form a piece, eight of which were needed for each length, and that the match was often poor, suggesting this may be an early example.66 If cost was not the only driver in the choice of mock flocks then what other factors may have influenced its choice? Perhaps technique is a clue here, since a mock flock was a conceit that employed the skills of the printer to deceive the spectator’s eye on a number of levels. It implied knowledge of the sources imitated, of the flocked paper and perhaps too the textile model, in order for the viewer to appreciate the success of the imitation of both. Durability of colour may also have been a factor in its choice, since Lady Margaret Heathcote (1733–69), selecting wallpaper for her father in 1763, noted that ‘I have therefore ordered a pattern in Mosaick, Green upon a cloth ground in imitation of real flock (wch. they tell me in that light colour wears better than the real)’.67 However, by end of the 1780s flocks’ rise was stalling. In London, they were being taken down from the walls of drawing rooms and staircases from Peckham to New Bond Street. The taste did, however, continue in certain spaces. In 1789 the Venetian Ambassador hung his London drawing room with 10 pieces of ‘rich embosd paper’ at 21/6d. per piece, accompanied by 32 yards of ‘rich flock Borders’.68 However, at Croome ‘old’ flock was replaced by a chintz paper in a bedroom and its closet.69 Flocks nevertheless fed into the design repertoire of paper hangings more widely. A version of the Clandon Red chamber flock of c.1800 survives from Wilton House in Wiltshire, coloured in crimson over a pink (faded to buff in parts) ground, suggesting that these designs had currency even after the flocked versions had been abandoned.70 Flocks then present a nuanced picture of imitation, one which meant they successfully imitated costly textiles but also themselves gave rise to a new imitative material, the mock flock. Flocks also had their own hierarchy of colours and patterns, which seem to have been recognised and followed by consumers across sites, and proved much more enduring than those around printed papers. They also extended the reach of papers in both town and country, beyond the bedchamber and dressing room to the drawing room, parlour and London stair as well as the saloon in the country house, indeed as their use in these spaces often predates printed papers they played a crucial role in the acceptance of paper hangings for the wall, an acceptance which may well have started in London rather than in the country. It is difficult, however, to draw broad generalisations about the choice of pattern for different spaces. Although the saloon and principal bedchamber are both sites where formalised designs were hung, both formal and informal designs could be used in the same type of space, notably the drawing room, and the presence of a mock flock in the green drawing room at Clandon seems to reverse these hierarchies. Like India papers, flocks could also be recycled, albeit often to a more remote area of the home, such as from the principal storey to the attic storey. This practice does suggest, however, that flocks carried a currency as they aged and discoloured, a currency which printed papers lacked. I now want to turn to examine a category of papers which, unlike flock, scarcely survives even in fragments and rejected both texture and pattern, plain papers.

In search of propriety 99

‘Hanging and Colouring the Room’: plain papers Plain papers seem a misnomer; why would a coloured paper without a pattern be chosen rather than simply colouring (painting) the wall? This choice does imply that it was not only the ability to imitate three-dimensional pattern and finish that made wallpaper attractive, but also the ease with which it supplied a flat, clean, coloured surface. As with many eighteenth-century papers the reasons behind the development of plain papers are partly aesthetic and partly economic. In this case that cost was linked to taxation since, as noted in Chapter 2, colouring in situ avoided taxation dues, and it was certainly cheaper than hanging a painted paper. This is evidenced by the decoration of the eating room at Mersham-le-Hatch in Kent in 1769, where Chippendale billed Sir Edmund Knatchbull for ‘Hanging and Colouring the Room Green’ at a rate of 1/3d. per yard; in the same year he hung a dressing room at Mersham with 102 yards of ‘a plane pea green paper’ which cost a further 3d. per yard.71 The employment of leading upholders to carry out these tasks alongside paper hangings manufacturers suggests that these schemes were an area where the two trades were in particularly close competition. Quality of finish was evidently a key issue. Knatchbull complained about the work of even Chippendale’s men: ‘As to the Man who putt up and colourd the Green paper he was not above two days at work & did it extreamly bad’.72 What may have given paper hangings tradesmen the edge was their experience in putting up paper as well as in painting. Blue or green verditer were the colours of choice for these schemes. Demand for green in particular resulted in some suppliers focusing on the effects of this colour. Anxious to reinforce their own credentials and reassure consumers on cost, the paper hanging manufacturers Robson and Hale described themselves as ‘Decorators and Painters in Distemper’ and claimed to execute oil painting and distemper colouring ‘in a superior manner’ alongside the supply of gold mouldings.73 They also associated themselves with a particular brand of green, claiming in 1789 that their colouring was ‘executed with peculiar neatness and taste, in particular the fashionable cheap Green called Mason’s Green’, possibly an abbreviation for Woodmason’s who had opened a warehouse on Pall Mall, opposite St. James’s Palace, in 1786. Woodmason’s promised ‘Paper Hangings on a new principle’, samples of which the firm claimed members of the ‘nobility’ had judged ‘far more elegant than anything of the kind before known’.74 Evidently not everyone agreed with this assessment; in 1788 the Ladies of Llangollen [Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby] refer to a visit to the Barretts at Oswestry ‘who showed us various patterns they had received from London, of Woodmason’s new invented paper. Never more disappointed. Dingy. Wholly deficient in colour, lustre, and effect’.75 Achieving an even, unblemished effect presented a particular challenge on the wall, however, since there was no pattern to disguise imperfections so colouring the wall in situ was not necessarily a quick, or indeed cheap, option. The Earl and Countess of Coventry evidently developed a taste for this finish at an early stage. As with flocks, the taste may have begun at their London house. In January, 1762, Bromwich’s men spent three and a half days ‘Colouring the Closets with fine Saxon blue and putting up the Gilt Cord’ at a cost of £1.6s.3d., work likely to have been in London since no travelling expenses or lodging is included in the bill, and such schemes demanded that workmen be in situ, work which here required 5lbs of colour billed at 5 shillings per lb.76 Preparation for colouring the wall could be almost as costly as hanging flock or

100  In search of propriety Chinese wallpaper, as is demonstrated by the Coventrys’ continued taste for this finish at their country house, Croome Court. In June 1772, Mayhew & Ince’s men spent sixteen days working in Lord Coventry’s bedchamber and dressing room, dismantling and cleaning the bed ‘of the Buggs’, but also working on the walls. This involved taking down and scraping off the old paper, sponging it with water ‘and preparing for the new paper’, a task which included ‘Pomicing’, rubbing down knots in the walls with pumice to give as smooth a surface as possible. Finally, in August, an interlining was put up followed by the hanging of ‘fine stampt’ elephant sized paper in sheets which was coloured ‘fine Pea Green’ at 14d. per yard in one room (presumably the bedchamber). Even doors were papered over to enhance the effect of an uninterrupted, smooth surface. Other preparations were intended to overcome a persistent enemy of papers hung in the British climate, then as now, damp. Croome lies in the Vale of Evesham with a backdrop of the Malvern Hills and in 1774 Mayhew & Ince returned to deal with the problem of damp in Lord Coventry’s closet. Plain papers showed any water damage more easily than prints or flocks, so the walls were scraped and cleaned before putting up 36 yards of ‘thick’ brown paper on the front and side walls to ‘keep out the Damp’. A ‘thick interlining Paper’ went on top, before paper sheets could be hung and coloured in ‘fine green Verditure’ at a price of 20d. per yard.77 This cost was also increased by the number of coats applied. Two colours were usual, but in 1762 when Crompton & Spinnage were called in to ‘new colour’ the Prince of Wales’s nursery and other rooms at the Queen’s House in St James’ Park (later Buckingham Palace) in ‘fine Verdeterre blue’, the paper was painted over no less than four times, in the same colour, to achieve the desired opacity and presumably too in the case of the nursery durability. The scheme was finished with a broad burnished gold papier mâché border.78 More modest London houses had two layers of colour, suggesting that depth and opacity of colour could also mark out schemes.79 From the 1760s onwards verditer was also thought an especially suitable background not just for gilt borders, but for gilt framed pictures. By 1774 Lady Mary Coke claimed that in the Butes’ London house ‘almost all the rooms are hung with light green papers, which show the pictures to great advantage’, while Mary Delany reported that ‘the rooms hung with plain paper [are] tinted to ye colour of ye beds’, suggesting rather that the Bute’s plain paper schemes were confined to the bedchambers.80 The visual effects of such a scheme can be appreciated in Johann Zoffany’s depiction of Sir Lawrence Dundas and his grandson in the dressing room or cabinet at Sir Lawrence’s London house at 19 Arlington Street where Robert Adam’s (1728–92) alterations had recently been completed (Plate 14). In 1764 Norman had papered it with sixteen pieces of verditure blue, finished with a gilt wood border. Even in this setting, however, economies were made, since the border was ‘repaired’ and re-gilded rather than supplied new.81 As at the Bute’s London house, efforts were made to match textiles with the wall finish, thereby enhancing the effect of a continuous colour; at Arlington Street the damask window curtains toned with the walls. Kate Retford has also pointed out that in the Zoffany the figures are dominated by the exhaustively detailed interior, part of Sir Lawrence’s desire for precision in his portrait.82 This allows the detail of the re-gilded fillet and verditure blue to be appreciated alongside pictures, sculpture, furniture and textiles. The popularity of the combination of gilt frames and verditer walls also meant that plain painted papers began to make inroads into the much grander spaces. Gill Saunders has suggested that Zoffany’s The Dutton Family in the Drawing Room of Sherborne

In search of propriety 101 Park, Gloucestershire of 1771 similarly shows a green verditer paper.83 The fashion also made inroads into picture galleries in London houses; Caroline, Lady Holland, decorated the 112-foot-long Picture Gallery at Holland House with blue paper and gilt borders, writing to her sister Emily, Duchess of Leinster in 1759 that ‘it’s very pretty; we breakfast in it’.84 The appeal of such colouration in long galleries was evidently enduring, for example at Osterley Park in Middlesex a pale blue plain paper was hung in 1759, and when Adam came to redecorate in c.1765–70 another plain paper, this time in pea-green, was hung to complement the damask seat furniture.85 The fashion continued in the country, sometimes involving skills closer to home. By 1816, when the Saloon at Titchford Park was depicted in the throes of decoration, consumers were evidently hanging their own coloured papers and borders (Figure 4.3). Plain papers, which did not have difficult-to-match repeats and could evade expensive duty by being coloured in situ, might have been especially attractive choices. This could be read as an amateur practice, highlighted in the movements here by the apronclad women. Other material goods, including a ladder back rush-seated chair and tripod table, have been adapted to the task of pasting and fixing up a paper and border. On the other hand, these co-ordinated activities could be seen as part of female appropriation of the crafts, what Ariane Fennetaux has called ‘the domestic fabrication of objects’.86 Some women applied their artistic skills to take a more active role in

Figure 4.3  Diana Sperling, Papering the Saloon at Titchford Park, September 2nd 1816, watercolour, 1816.

102  In search of propriety decoration; Lady Archer’s Thames-side villa was described in 1787 as decorated with ‘elegant’ paper hangings, the work of four ‘young ladies who excel in painting’.87 At first glance flocks and plains might seem to have little in common. However, both were hung in spaces from which Chinese wallpapers and their imitations were excluded, in particular the saloon and long gallery. Like Chinese wallpapers, however, flocks spawned their own imitations in mock flocks, a means for this category of paper to permeate other parts of the house up and down the social scale. Coloured plain papers, however, were not necessarily a cheap option, and were hung in drawing rooms and picture galleries. Crucially, too, they could adapt to the scale of any room as there was no pattern repeat to match, their visual effects enhanced by gilt-wood mouldings meaning they were also suitable for more private spaces such as the Dundas cabinet. It is ironic that a finish devoid of pattern could become exclusive as its labour-intensive preparation rendered it suitable as a background for gilt-framed pictures, a quality shared with flock. Moreover, both finishes proved enduring: flocks into the 1800s and plains re-emerging as compartment schemes in the 1790s.

Notes 1 Discussed in Amanda Vickery, ‘“Neat and Not Too Showey”: Words and Wallpaper in Regency England’ in Gender, Taste and Material Culture in Britain and North America in the Long Eighteenth Century, ed. John Styles and Amanda Vickery (New Haven, CT and London: Yale Center for British Art/Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2006), 201–22; Amanda Vickery, Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2009), 180–81. 2 Vickery, Behind Closed Doors, 20. 3 Quoted in E.A. Entwisle, Bibliography of Wallpaper (MSL/1981/3, V&A, National Art Library), f. 63. 4 Isaac Ware, A Complete Body of Architecture (London: 1768, ECCO), 469. 5 Rosie MacArthur and Jon Stobart, ‘Going for a Song? Country House Sales in Georgian England’ in Modernity and the Second-Hand Trade, European Consumption Cultures and Practices, 1700–1900 ed. Jon Stobart and Ilja Van Damme (Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan, 2010), 183. 6 Public Advertiser, 15 May 1764; Gazette, 19 December 1765, Burney. 7 Dobson and Hayward traded at 114 Wardour Street in 1791, BM, BC 91.10. 8 Emily J. Climenson, ed. Elizabeth Montagu, The Queen of the Bluestockings: Her Correspondence from 1720 to 1761 (2 Vols London: John Murray, 1906), Vol. 1, 271. 9 Quoted in Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), 46. 10 Katie Scott, ‘Introduction’ in ‘Between Luxury and the Everyday: The Decorative Arts in Eighteenth-Century France’ ed. Katie Scott and Deborah Cherry, special issue Art History 28, no. 2 (April 2005), 144. 11 R. Campbell, The London Tradesman (London: 1757, ECCO), 118–19. 12 On Chippendale’s account see Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, 46; Gill Saunders, Wallpaper in Interior Decoration (London: V&A Publications, 2002), 57–58; Anthony Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’ in The Papered Wall: The History, Patterns and Techniques of Wallpaper, ed. Lesley Hoskins (London: Thames and Hudson 2005), 30, note 27. For the Soho Square flock see Treve Rosoman, London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840 (London: English Heritage, 1992), pl. 17. 13 For example, V&A Museum VAM E.3868–1953, see Jean Hamilton, An Introduction to Wallpaper (London: HMSO, 1983), 13 and fig. 16. 14 Rosoman, London Wallpapers, pl. 17.

In search of propriety 103 5 General Advertiser, 21 May 1751, Burney. 1 16 Stationers, playing card and pasteboard makers on Aldersgate Street, Gazeteer & New Daily Advertiser, 2 December 1776, Burney. 17 Bill from S. Dunbar to Mr. Turner, for goods and work done at the Upper Beadle’s House, October 1751, Receipt Book 11604/6, Grocers Company Archives. I am grateful to Helen Clifford for this reference. 18 William Scott, The Constitution and Finance of English, Scottish and Irish Joint-Stock Companies to 1720 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1911) Vol. 3, 72. 19 Postman & the Historical Account, 30 April–2 May 1706, Burney. 20 E.A. Entwisle, ‘Early Wall-Papers’ Country Life (16 July 1953), fig. 3; another fragment found in the first-floor parlour at the Christopher Hotel, High Street House, Bath stamped ‘First Account Taken’ is in the Building of Bath Museum E0185.02. For discussion of the Ivy House example see Chapter 1. 21 Cited in Simon Swynford-Jenkins, ‘Furniture in Eighteenth-Century Country House Guides’ Furniture History 42 (2006), 132; Anna Chalcroft and Judith Viscari, Strawberry Hill: Horace Walpole’s Gothic Castle (London: Frances Lincoln, 2007), 69. 22 On this question see Rosoman, London Wallpapers, 7. 23 Stroud Museums CM. 1928. Former curator Lionel Walrond recalled the discovery of a ‘red flock wallpaper (1714), one piece of which bore part of the maker’s mark THE BLUE PAPER WAREHOUSE IN ALDERMANBURY. This is the only known surviving piece so marked’. See Lionel Walrond, ‘Review of The Vernacular Architecture and Buildings of Stroud and Chalford’ Proceedings of the Cotteswold Naturalists Field Club 45, no. 2 (2008), 243–44. 24 British Apollo, 12–17 November 1708, Burney. 25 BM, HC 91.32. 26 Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, 46. 27 For example, in the best bedroom and dressing room at Croome Bromwich’s workman hung 270 yards of new flock in February, 1780, reusing the old linen linings, but with the addition of cartouche paper over the top at a total ‘put up’ cost of 14½ d per yard: bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Lord Coventry, 1780, Croome Accounts, 705.73 14450 207, F62 Box 28/18, Worcestershire Archives. 28 Allyson McDermott, ‘A 20th Century Phoenix rises from 18th Century ashes, Part 1: Red Flock and Flower Pots’ Wallpaper History Review (1995), 26. 29 Braybrooke papers, Audley End, D/D By A44/12, Essex County Record Office. 30 Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, cat. 41: the same pattern was hung at Eagle House, Bathford, a detail of which is reproduced on the cover. 31 For example at Hampton Court and Lydiard Tregoze, Wiltshire. 32 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Rev Mr Drake, 24 May 1777, Drake of Shardeloes papers, D-DR/5/29 bundle 5:2/7/12, Centre for Bucks Studies; the paper is V&A, VAM E.335–1915. Jean Hamilton re-catalogued this paper as ‘probably c.1830–40’ rather than late eighteenth century because of the texture of the paper and the flock, but it could be associated with the rehung earlier scheme, see C.C. Oman and Jean Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cat. 203. 33 For example, Vile & Cobb patched a crimson flock in the study at Croome in 1762, Croome Accounts F60 item 15, Worcestershire Archives. 34 Christopher Gilbert, The Life and Work of Thomas Chippendale (2 Vols. London: Studio Vista, 1978), Vol. 1, 182, 187. 35 Croome Accounts, F62 Box 28/28, Worcestershire Archives. 36 Amanda Sheridan and Matthew Winterbottom, ‘John Linnell’s Rediscovered Bill for Furnishing Ammerdown House, Somerset’ Furniture History Society Newsletter 187 (August 2012), 15. 37 Croome Accounts, F62 Box 28/18, Worcestershire Archives; Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to John Radcliffe, July 2, 1773, Radcliffe family of Hitchen Priory papers, DE/R/ F210/11, Hertfordshire Archives. 38 Chalcroft and Viscari, Strawberry Hill, 52–54, 58. 39 For example, Entwisle, Bibliography f67 (1765). For exports to France see Chapter 6. 40 Other parts of the bill are discussed in Chapter 5. 41 BM, HC 91.52.

104  In search of propriety 2 Bill from Robert Stark to Mr Vezean, 27 May 1782, Guildhall Library. 4 43 Quoted in Richard C. Nylander, ‘An Ocean Apart: Imports and the Beginning of American Manufacture’ in Hoskins, The Papered Wall, 124. 44 Quoted in Barrett Kalter, Modern Antiques: The Material Past in England, 1660–1780 (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2012), 146–47. 45 V&A Museum, VAM E.704–1970, E. 184–1972; Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 77. Fragments were seen hanging in the east corner bedchamber and on a window frame, author’s visit, 5 November 2007. These rooms were destroyed in the fire of 2015. 46 For example at Croome. 47 Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings, cat. 34. 48 All the papers are illustrated in Oliver Brackett ‘English Wall-Papers of the Eighteenth Century’ Connoisseur 52 (October 1918), 83–88. The papers surviving in the State bedchamber and another former bedchamber are conflated; while the ‘corridor paper’ is that from the former dressing room. 49 See John Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004), 87 and 90. 50 A fragment of this paper has a lion rampant printed on the canvas liner, which may relate to Bromwich’s. Colchester and Ipswich Museum Service, e-mail message to the author, 13 April 2012. 51 A sample is E. 31–1971, Oman & Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 58, pl. opposite 116. 52 Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’, 27. 53 Elizabeth Einberg, William Hogarth: A Complete Catalogue of the Paintings (London: The Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2016), 350–51. 54 Museum of London, MOL Z1704/133. 55 BM, HC 91.7 56 Entwisle, Bibliography, f. 68. 57 Rosoman, London Wallpapers, 2009 pls. 16 & 18; Entwisle, Bibliography, f.68. 58 Cornewall’s account book J56/2–4, 1772–91, Moccas Court papers, Herefordshire Archives. For more on purchases for his country house see Chapter 6. For more on Jackson see Chapter 5. 59 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to the Earl of Shelburne, August 1782, Shelburne papers, Box 2 13 ‘Curious bills’ 1761–85, Bowood Archive. 60 Treve Rosoman, ‘A Chippendale Wallpaper Discovered’ Country Life (14 November 1985), 1501. 61 For a discussion of his use of stucco papers see Chapter 5. 62 Quoted in Vickery, Behind Closed Doors, 93–94. 63 By Bland’s stationery and paper hangings warehouse, The Strand, Gazette, 25 June 1768, Burney. 64 Gilbert, Chippendale, Vol. 1, 141. 65 Bills from Bromwich & Leigh to James Leigh (1762) and Lord Leigh (1763–64), Leighs of Stoneleigh papers, DR 18/5/3963a and 4402, Shakespeare Birthplace Archive. 66 See Inventory, Clandon House, May 1778, Sandiford and Mapes, Report on the Green Drawing Room (2004), both National Trust files. 67 Letter to the First Earl Hardwicke, quoted in Saunders, Wallpaper in Interior Decoration, 59. ‘Mosaick’ probably refers to diaper or trellis-work used as a background pattern. 68 Account book of a London Paper Stainer, 1789–90, ffs 5, 16. 49, 54 & 76, V&A, National Art Library. 69 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Lord Coventry, 1780, Croome Accounts, F62 Box 28/28. 70 2057/H1/26, Wiltshire Archives, Swindon. 71 The addition of a gilt border brought the total cost with hanging to £7.12s., see Gilbert, Chippendale, Vol. 1, 224–25, 231. 72 Quoted in Gilbert, Chippendale, Vol. 1, 49. 73 BM, HC, 91.46. 74 World, 29 April 1789; Morning Post & Daily Advertiser, 20 October 1786, Burney. 75 Quoted in E.A. Entwisle, A Literary History of Wallpaper (London: Batsford, 1960), 56. 76 Bill from Thomas Bromwich and Leonard Leigh to Lord Coventry, 1762, Croome Accounts, F62 Box 28/69A.

In search of propriety 105 7 Croome Accounts, BA14450 207/7 (4)/64 & (110)/70. 7 78 LC 9/307 no 63, handwritten transcript in Royal Collection files. I am grateful to Sally Goodsir for this reference; see H. Clifford Smith, Buckingham Palace: Its Furniture, Decoration and History (London: Country Life, 1931), 76. 79 For example, in 1789 Mr Meyrick on Gloucester Street had canvas tacked up, followed by elephant paper and then 3 pieces 9 yds. of stamped cartridge paper hung in his parlour, where it was ‘twice coloured’ blue at a cost of £2.5s. Account Book of a Paper Stainer, 1789–90, ff 114, 128. 80 Entwisle, Bibliography, ff. 68–69. 81 Caddy Wilmot-Sitwell, ‘The Inventory of 29 Arlington Street, 12 May 1768’ Furniture History XLV (2009), 78; Martin Postle, Johan Zoffany: Society Observed (New Haven, CT and London: Yale Centre for British Art/Royal Academy in association with Yale University Press, 2011), cat. 71. 82 Kate Retford, The Conversation Piece: Making Modern Art in Eighteenth-Century Britain (London: Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2017), 207–9. 83 Saunders, Wallpaper in Interior Decoration, fig. 31. 84 Brian Fitzgerald, ed., Correspondence of Emily, Duchess of Leinster (1731–1814) (Dublin: Dublin Stationery Office, 1949) Vol. 2, 223. 85 John Hardy and Maurice Tomlin, Osterley Park House (London: V&A, 1985), 25; Fragments VAM E.1767–1773–1973, see Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 137; Andrew Bush ‘Rewarding Studies at Osterley Park’ National Trust Arts, Buildings, Collections Bulletin (Spring 2014), 8–9. 86 Ariane Fennetaux, ‘Female Crafts: Women and Bricolage in late Georgian Britain, 1750– 1820’ in Women and Things, 1750–1950, ed. Maureen Daly Goggin and Beth Fowkes Tobin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), 91–108. 87 Public Advertiser, 29 March 1787, Burney.

5 Challenging the high arts Papier mâché, stucco papers and ‘landskip’ papers

This chapter takes up the assumptions about the relationship between commercial paper hangings and high art outlined in the Introduction. It focuses on three products which challenged the dominance of the high arts of painting and sculpture in the interior in different ways. Each of these were the products of an industry which, by the 1750s, had well-developed skills in mould making, block cutting and colour printing with distemper colours, skills which enabled manufacturers to move into areas of decoration where consumers had previously turned to other trades, notably those working in paint, plaster or stone. First it examines papier mâché, an infinitely malleable decorative material which has received little attention in the study of interiors. It was, however, used extensively to ornament both walls and ceilings and was adapted to a wide range of designs and colours.1 Second, it considers stucco papers – that is, printed wallpapers which imitated stucco or low relief decorative plasterwork associated with the Italian stuccodores (stucco makers) whose work was found in England from the 1720s. Of all the types of wallpaper considered in this book, stucco papers have the clearest documented association with one space – the hall and stair. Third, and finally, the chapter discusses printed ‘landskip’ [landscape] papers, which turned views of architecture into repeating patterns, and are again associated with the hall and stair. Many of the more ambitious wallpapers discussed here were printed in tones of grey and buff, offset with white and black, echoing a vaguely antique monochrome taste. However, although the range might be limited this did not mean printing was less skilled, and indeed monochrome effects were frequently offset by a coloured ground in red, blue or yellow. The question of style as part of a desire to categorise wallpapers is another theme of this chapter. As Scott has pointed out, style as a critical concept has virtually disappeared from dictionaries of art historical terms, its focus on making viewed as a distraction from the business of contextualisation.2 However, the products considered here imitated in different ways the motifs of antique (classical), Gothic and modern (Rococo) design. Although much recent study has concerned the influence of the Grand Tour and the rediscovery of antiquity through ornament and material goods such as ceramics, surprisingly little attention has been paid to wallpaper, even in studies which focus on imitation and interiors.3 Engravings of sites and excavated objects certainly supplied manufacturers back home with a ready supply of imagery and forms to be copied, such as the ‘ruins’ and ‘trophies’ discussed below. However, for wallpaper, other styles were also significant in allowing papers to transgress hierarchies of taste, not only replacing painting and architectural and sculpted ornament, but by using styles such as the Gothic to subvert classical models. The combination

Challenging the high arts 107 of the decorative effects of the Gothic and paper hangings has been characterised by Barrett Kaulter as a ‘self-contradictory aspiration to novelty and historical authenticity’. Kaulter argues that Gothic paper hangings were themselves a modern object and had no ‘original’; rather, these new products in ‘old’ designs were anachronistic and epitomised the tensions of the eighteenth-century when commerce transformed what Kaulter calls ‘historical consciousness’. However inauthentic it might be, what Gothic wallpaper did do was satisfy a longing for the past.4 This chapter also examines another ‘non-classical’ style, which in the eighteenth century was called ‘modern’ but more recently has been labelled Rococo, a style which was widely employed not for the production of high art forms but for commercial products. The term ‘Rococo’ also conveys what Scott has called the unknown agency of the ‘so-called period style’. She argues that ‘Period style is no more than a convenient tool of classification, a mixed bag of identifying traits; unlike the individual style of artists, it has [. . .] no explanatory force because it is not in fact related to the work of art as cause to effect’.5 However, concepts of period style are deeply embedded in the work of designers and decorators alike as Scott has again noted in discussing the term Rococo: ‘If the term “Rococo”, invented [. . .] in the nineteenth century means anything specific, it surely stands in some distinct relation to eighteenth-century decoration, the period and the stuff that first gave it currency.’6 In some ways materials such as stucco and papier mâché were much better adapted to imitate the Rococo, with its absence of rules and orders and its emphasis on imaginative interpretation, than what Patricia Crown calls the ‘costly simplicity’ of classicising styles. Indeed I would argue that papier mâché provides an example of how the commercial appeal of this ‘modern’ style allowed, as Crown expressed it, ‘artisanartists’ to determine artistic fashion and practice.7 Snodin has also argued that the contemporary label ‘modern’ referred to a British (rather than French) Rococo style, signifying what he calls ‘a significant break with ancient classical norms’. English manufacturing was, however, fearful of the effects of French superiority in the design of luxury goods on a number of fronts. As Mimi Hellman has pointed out in relation to eighteenth-century French furniture, this superiority is closely linked to the mythology that credited the French both with a superior sense of ‘tasteful embellishment, and graceful living’, and identified the nation as ‘unrivalled practitioners of the art of politeness’.8 The examples discussed in this chapter suggest, however, that anxieties about the association of the ‘modern’ or Rococo style with France were outweighed by its commercial adaptability, notably in the case of papier mâché. Wallpapers also frequently challenged the dominance of antique precedents in their appropriation of Rococo styles and forms, which ignored architectural propriety and often provided the over-riding framework for a papered scheme. One producer who was successful in supplying ambitious designs for these types of products was William Squire, and I want to begin by unpicking an extensive bill to illustrate the range of products the chapter covers. Squire was a member of the Upholders Company with a shop on The Poultry, who saw the opportunities offered by making his own paper hangings. By the end of 1760 he had bought Whittle’s manufactory on Old Street, including all the firm’s materials such as woodblocks, records of colours used in printing and the stock as well ‘new Prints, in various Patterns’ including, significantly as we shall see, those for staircases. He also had his eye on the wholesale market, highlighting that he could supply ‘Merchants, for Exportation [and] Country Shopkeepers’ and that he sent out samples.9 One example of his success in

108  Challenging the high arts exporting is an ‘Invoice of Sundries Sent to America’, a list of goods supplied by Squire in 1764 to General Philip Schuyler (1773–1804) for his mansion in Albany, New York State. It included: 8 Pieces Feston Gothic Stuco [Stucco]

∙

8 Nickolls [Niches?] Do....................        

£2.8s.0d.

24 Dozn. Stuco Borders @6d............................£0.12s.0d. 10 Paintings of Ruins of Rome @ 7/s................£3.10s.[0]d. 1 Room: 9 Ornaments of Pannells @ 2/6..........£1.2s.6d. 6 Tripoly’s [Trophies] @ 3/...................................18s.0d. 1 Picture of a Philosopher for door piece..........5s.0d. 48 Sheets Top & Bottom festoons 5d...............£1.0s.0d. A Neat Mache ceiling to plan for a Room 25ft by 20.....£6.6s.0d.10 Squire’s bill identified his stock in three ways. First, decorative elements were singled out by reference to materials, such as the two stucco designs and the bespoke papier mâché ceiling. Second, Squire employed subject matter to identify antique subjects, such as trophies and figurative paintings of classical ruins and a single panel depicting ‘a Philosopher’, the latter presumably intended for an over-door. Finally, he made use of stylistic labels, notably listing lengths of festoon patterned wallpaper as ‘Gothic Stuco’. His invoice can be used to examine how both retailers and consumers applied these terms to identify new products, and to analyse examples of actual papers which employ architectural elements in a range of different styles and surface finishes, firstly papier mâché.

Papier mâché Squire’s supply of a ‘Neat Mache ceiling’ highlights the increasing role of this product on the ceiling as well as the wall, as a substitute for wood carving or plaster work. However, not everyone saw this role in positive terms. The architectural writer Isaac Ware complained about the use of papier mâché for door-cases, observing that ‘stampt paper, instead of carved wood, is coming up all the rage of fashion: what the Goths hid at the tops of their highest arches is brought down to the level of the eye’, but also thought that anyone would be able to tell the difference between carving and ‘such contrivances’.11 The material was also a focus of carvers’ anxieties about French imports. Protectionist measures put in place against the perceived threat of new products included the AntiGallican Association, founded in 1745. This was set up to encourage English trade and ‘to oppose the insidious arts of the French Nation’, its aim being ‘to promote British manufacturers to extend the commerce of England and discourage the introduction of French models and oppose the importation of French commodities’.12 For example, the draughtsman-designer Thomas Johnson declared his sympathies for the Anti-Gallican Association in the title page of his One Hundred and Fifty New Designs published in 1758. This featured a putto labelled ‘Genius’, who used a torch to set fire

Challenging the high arts 109 to ‘French Paper Machee’ in what Brigid von Preussen has interpreted as a reference to the anxiety of British carvers about the importation of gilded papier mâché, which could imitate carved wood at a fraction of the cost. Von Preussen also points out that the design can be read on other levels, too, since the figure of ‘Genius’ suggests that Johnson was promoting himself as not just a carver, but as a graphic artist and tastemaker, one whose activities transcended manual craft and whose designs might be taken up by a wide range of different producers. However, it also conveyed a wider message since, by foregrounding papier mâché as a successful import substitute, it suggested that Britain had no need of French imports.13 Accordingly tradesmen’s rhetoric around papier mâché for the wall and ceiling does not make comparisons with France; rather, ceiling ornaments made in England were singled out in 1778 by a French commentator for praise: ‘The English cast in cardboard the Ceiling ornaments that we make in plaster. They are more durable, break off with difficulty, or if they do break off, the danger is of no account and the repair less expensive.14 Moreover, none of these fears halted the material’s spread. Trade cards and adverts often itemise the products that could be imitated in papier mâché, suggesting a need to acquaint consumers with its versatility. It was not just ceiling ornaments that were produced, but wall decorations, too. According to Eckhardts (traded c.1786–96) they could be installed more quickly and at the same time solve a technical problem: Eating rooms already stuccoed may, at a small Expence, receive much additional Embellishment; Rooms, with bare Walls, may have every Beauty, Elegance and Convenience, of a well stuccoed Apartment, and perfectly free from (the) Echo universally complained of in stuccoed Rooms, at much less Expense, and without wasting the necessary Time for the drying of Stucco.15 Papier mâché had other attractions for the paper hangings trade. The Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences’ description of its manufacture dovetailed neatly with wallpaper, since the kind of paper selected could range from brown paper to writing paper according to the ‘nicety’ of the product to be produced, that is the amount of fine detail required. Papier mâché could then use offcuts from brown paper, as well as from lining and printing papers. Preparation involved skills in handling adhesive, something the paper hangings trade was well acquainted with from flock manufacture. Accordingly, the paper was boiled with water and stirred it until it was ‘pasty’, then drained and beaten in a mortar or machine until it formed a ‘perfectly soft and yielding’ pulp. It was then drained again and a solution of adhesive added (usually gum arabic, which was less prone to shrinkage) and boiled slowly to form a paste (the thinner the better for ‘embossed’ ornament). The Modern Dictionary also emphasised the importance of the correct choice of moulds for successful imitation, and again the ownership (if not the making) of papier mâché moulds seems to have been allied with paper hangings. According to the Dictionary, plaster was best for complex and embossed designs, whereas for simpler designs wood was preferable and far more durable, so perhaps there was crossover with the carving of wood blocks.16 For example the ‘implements in trade’ of the ‘PaperMachee-Manufacturer and Paper-Stainer’, William Fry, at 3 Ludgate Hill sold in 1774 included ‘paper-Machee moulds’, implying these were a valuable commodity, perhaps particularly in Fry’s case since the sale included ‘new Prints for paper-Hangings’, suggesting he was a leader in design too.17

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Figure 5.1  Fragments of gilded papier mâché fillets from the Breakfast Room, Osterley Park, Middlesex, 1770s.

The most common use of papier mâché, however, is rarely mentioned in advertisements and that was the supply of lengths as a fillet, referred to in accounts as a ‘papier mache’ or ‘stamped’ border. It was used to conceal the trimmed edges of hangings around the dado, cornice, doors and chimneypieces but was also sometimes fitted up the corners of a room or used to create ‘compartments’ in panelled schemes, discussed in Chapter 6. It could finish textiles as well as wallpaper. For example, a dressing room at Burghley ‘handsomely’ fitted up with green cut velvet was finished with ‘elegant gilt papié machée borders’.18 Research into the fillet from the Breakfast Room at Osterley Park has shown that layers of paper were applied over the moulded papier mâché base, in order to strengthen long lengths of delicate ornament as they dried (Figure 5.1). This reflects the Modern Dictionary’s instructions that longer lengths or bas reliefs required ‘slips’ of damp paper laid over the pulp to prevent damage during the drying process. As with flocking, considerable skill was involved in getting the paper sufficiently moistened with gum water or size to adhere to the pulp, and even on the Osterley fillets voids have been found between the pulp layers and the paper sheet additions where the material contracted as it dried. When the ornament was trimmed after removal from the mould there was also the danger of overcutting, and hence loss of definition.19 Traces of yellow painted paper and blue vertical lines were also found during investigations of the Osterley scheme in 2013, suggesting that another problem was colour seeping through the layers.20 This seepage could not only disfigure the paper but also give the game away that this was not carved wood or cast lead, but an imitation. It seems that Bromwich’s for one took precautions to prevent this, inserting

Challenging the high arts 111 a slip of crimson paper under a gilded ‘stamped’ chain border hung over a crimson and grey striped paper in the back bedchamber of Sir Gilbert Heathcote’s (1723–85) London house on Grosvenor Square in 1777.21 The fact that similar work was carried out retrospectively for William Turnour at his London house in 1759 suggests that this problem only became visible over time, perhaps due to the effects of damp.22 Many of the names who went on to become well known wallpaper manufacturers sold papier mâché ornaments for mirror and picture frames.23 The sale of Archibald McMillan’s stock and utensils in 1783 included ‘a large quantity of mache moulds’ which may have been used to form the ‘elegant glasses and girandoles’ he produced.24 Bromwich’s combined the supply of paper hangings with gilt wood ornaments and frames from the beginning, indeed it is tempting to speculate that this trade took them into supplying fillets and other materials to finish schemes in the first place. William Blaithwaite, a regular client of Bromwich’s with both a London house and Dyrham Park outside Bath to decorate, evidently had a taste for the material. Accordingly the firm supplied him on at least two occasions with ‘papier maché Ornaments’corners and centres for picture frames in a gilded (oil) finish- as well as a double-armed girandole painted white. His own glass was also re-silvered (presumably a task that

Figure 5.2  Robert Stark (active 1760s–1780s), designs for papier mâché picture frames, pen and ink, 1764.

112  Challenging the high arts was sub-contracted) and then framed in white, so papier mâché could evidently update other decorative elements in the interior.25 Leading firms also designed their own frames: Robert Stark (active 1760s–1780s), describing himself as a ‘papie mache and paper hangings manufacturer’ on Ludgate Hill supplied no less than three alternative designs for picture frames for Charlecote Park in Warwickshire in 1764, to be finished in either oil or burnished gold (Figure 5.2).26 The firm’s reputation for this material continued as Stark’s successors Johnston & Young were still supplying frames to clients in 1783.27 Equally, it was a small step from supplying materials for frames to challenging other types of carved and plaster ornament on the wall: Masefield’s papier mâché manufactory showed the range of products which could furnish a domestic interior, not just frames but also medallions and brackets (Figure 2.6). It was not only these wall ornaments, fillets and frames which lent themselves to making in papier mâché, but also ceilings ornaments. Wheeley’s highlighted this aspect, claiming to offer ‘a great variety of Papiee Machee & other Ornaments for Cieilings [sic], Halls, Staircases & c’ (Figure 2.5), locations where wood and stucco traditionally held sway. Papier mâché had practical advantages on the ceiling since it was not only light in weight, but also, as noted by the French commentator quoted above, durable and easier to repair than stucco. Ceilings could also be made to measure, as described by Lady Hertford in the Introduction. This allowed this seemingly basic repeating commodity to become an exclusive product, especially if the ornaments were gilded or, more rarely, silvered. By the early 1750s papier mâché as a ceiling decoration was evidently still unusual outside London, but nevertheless desirable. Henrietta, Lady Luxborough, wrote from Barrels in Warwickshire to William Shenstone in June 1752, describing the effects of ‘a sort of stucco paper’ used on the ceiling of the chapel at Witley Court in Worcestershire where ‘the paper is stamped so deep as to project considerably, and is very thick and strong; and the ornaments are all detached, and put on separately’. Henrietta identified other advantages of the scheme: one was that the exact number of ceiling roses required could be purchased and pasted up individually before being gilded, another that neither the ceiling nor the cornice, once installed, could ‘be known from fretwork’, so avoiding detection of imitation high on the wall. However, she had also grasped the disadvantage of such schemes, which centred on that perennial headache of decorators, installation: The difficulty, and consequently the expence, must be in putting up these ornaments, which [. . .] must be done by a man whom the Paper-seller sends on purpose from London: but perhaps your ingenuity might avoid that, if you could see any finished.28 Henrietta evidently decided this was the finish she wanted for her bedroom. The following year it was hung with wallpaper, but the ceiling was still bare: ‘I would have adorned with papier maché and the ground painted of a colour; but do not know where to get the paper ornaments, nor how to have them fixed up: for no person hereabouts has the smallest idea of it’. Shenstone suggested Bromwich; although he considered ‘a small specimen of the chew’d Paper for Ceilings’ was ‘pretty’ it was also ‘unreasonably dear’. However, Henrietta evidently did not agree as a month later the wallpaper was hung, and Bromwich was making ceiling ornaments.29 These made to measure ceiling decorations were far from cheap. For example Bromwich & Leigh billed William Turnour £6.6s.6d. for ‘Ornamenting the Ceiling with Papier Mache’ in his London house in 1759, virtually the same price as that

Challenging the high arts 113 Squire charged General Schuyler for his ‘neat mache ceiling’ for what was evidently a sizeable interior (25 feet x 20 feet).30 They were also costly to transport; at Dunster Castle in Somerset the box in which Crompton & Spinnage supplied Rococo style ornaments for a drawing room in 1758 weighed 50lbs.31 It was not just leading paper hangings manufacturers who supplied such products, but also specialist frame makers, of whom Stark was one, as was Joseph Duffour. Mary Delany described ‘Mr Dufour’ as ‘the famous man for paper ornaments like stucco’, almost certainly the frame maker Joseph Duffour (d.1776) who described himself as the ‘Original Maker of Papie Máchie’. She visited Duffour in 1749 to commission a ceiling rose for the Duchess of Portland’s dressing-room at Bulstrode in Buckinghamshire.32 Four years later, in December 1753, more ceiling ornaments were being installed in the same room. Mary Delany wrote complaining that: We are all in disorder at present. The Duchess’s dressing-room all unfurnished to have a papier-mâchée ceiling put up; but we hope it will be finished tomorrow, and then we shall be very busy in setting it in order again.33 Papier mâché might be messy to install, but once up it could be finished in many different ways. It is difficult, even close up, to detect the difference between a fillet made out of papier mâché once it was decorated from one in carved wood or cast lead. Painted finishes were usually either in white, to imitate stucco, or picked out in the colours of a scheme, such as the blue and white painted border Chippendale supplied for the print room at Mersham-le-Hatch 1767–68.34 Style as well as finish could be adapted to suit. This is well illustrated at Strawberry Hill, where papier mâché was employed by Walpole to enhance the Gothic effects. Anna Chalcroft and Judith Viscari have characterised Walpole as using the technologies of the future rather than the past to build the Holbein Chamber and Trunk-ceiled Passage, and this is particularly evident in his choice of papier mâché. It was used to create a Gothic fretwork pattern all over the passage and on the ceiling of the Chamber (Figure 5.3). Thomas Gray described the latter (designed by Müntz, a Swiss artist who carried out painted work elsewhere in the house) as ‘covered and fretted in star and quatre-foil compartments, with roses at the intersections, all is papier mache’, an effect rendered all the more dramatic by being combined with purple wallpaper.35 It was also used on the ceiling of the Long Gallery and perhaps too for the stars on the ceiling of Star Chamber. It was this adaptability that ensured papier mâché’s success. Its supply for Stoneleigh Abbey in 1763 reveals its range within one house. Fillets were painted to pick out the tints in two different Chinese wallpapers and silvered for a bedroom scheme involving ‘old silver’ leather and green flock; while ornaments were supplied for two staircases on a buff ground. All of these schemes were, however, eclipsed by the work in Mary Leigh’s bedchamber where Bromwich’s supplied gilt finish ornaments including cornicing, borders, brackets and imitation ribbon knots (Figure 3.3).36 In this scheme then Bromwich’s were doing far more than just hanging paper, they were in effect constructing an architectural scheme with materials which directly challenged the roles of the plasterer and carver. The use of carved wood frames alongside papier mâché ornaments in the same space further blurred the boundaries between authenticity and imitation. It may be too that the ‘India’ pictures were allied to papier mâché in particular ways, since one way of ensuring a unified decorative scheme incorporating these costly images was through frames and ornaments.37

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Figure 5.3  John Carter (1748–1817) Passage to the Gallery, and Interior of the Holbein Room at Strawberry Hill, pen and ink and watercolour, c.1790.

By the 1760s papier mâché could decorate a complete interior, and its associations with superficiality may have meant it was particularly attractive to those decorating in the Rococo style. The Saloon at Hartlebury Castle in Worcestershire, installed by Bishop James Johnson (1705–74) in the 1760s, gives some idea of the effects that could be achieved. Low relief papier mâché ceiling ornaments on the theme of music

Figure 5.4  Drawing room at Alscot Park, Warwickshire, decorated with papier mâché ornaments on the ceiling and overmantel, supplied and installed by Thomas Bromwich’s, 1765, English, photographed for Country Life in 1958.

116  Challenging the high arts are combined with walls decorated with Rococo-style frames, swags and trophies as well as a design indebted to mirror frames over the chimney piece.38 Similarly, at Alscot Park in Warwickshire, a house rebuilt by James West (1703–72) in the Gothic style, Bromwich’s supplied ceiling and wall decorations for the drawing room (Figure 5.4). West had already employed Bromwich to produce ceiling ornaments for his London house in Covent Garden in 1758 and at Alscot seven years later he supplied West with ‘Rich Gothick Papier Mâché ornaments’ and a ‘sett of festoons for over a Chimney in burnished Gold’ at a total cost of £117. Girouard has pointed out that, after visiting Strawberry Hill, West asked Walpole who had supplied the fan-vaulted ceiling in the Long Gallery. This is partially replicated at Alscot in the flattened fans, although modified by rosettes and circles which enhanced the Rococo-Gothic mood.39 Rococo ornaments could also be used to unify schemes involving paper hangings, as was the case at Doddington Hall in Lincolnshire. Gilt papier mâché ornaments in the form of trophies, mirror frames and other ornaments appear to have been hung over a damask pattern flock in the drawing room, perhaps intended to link the picture and looking glass frames together and create a more unified scheme, or at least one that was more Rococo in mood than the flock.40 Part of the scheme was supplied by Peter Babell (d.1771) of Long Acre who described himself as a ‘Designer and Modeller. One of the first Improvers of Papier Maché Ornaments for Cielings, Chimney-pieces, Picture-frames, &c’. He may have had links to France through Joseph Duffour, although it is unclear if he was the ‘Babel of Paris’, author of A New Book of Ornaments, published in London in 1752. Babell certainly supplied oiled gold borders for two picture frames to Sir John Hussey Delaval for Doddington in 1766, and in his letter he was anxious to highlight the technical issues he had faced in making these, showing how hand finishing and the depth of mouldings affected price: I am Sorry the Work came above the Price that my Lady was pleas’d to mention. I have Charged the very lowest, But the Moulding being so Bold did take more Gold, than I thought at First. I have sanded the ground of the Border to give a Relief to the Ornaments.41 Papier mâché was also adaptable outside the house, as Roberts’s highlighted in their claims to supply it in ‘the Chineese, French [Rococo] or Gothic taste’ not only for ceilings, staircases and halls but for summer houses and temples as well. In these semiexterior spaces it did not suffer from damp to the same extent as paper hangings, which may explain Lady Hertford’s choice of papier mâché for the ceiling of her husband’s room in the woods, discussed in the Introduction.

Stucco papers Papier mâché was not, however, the only means of imitating plasterwork. Printed wallpapers imitating stucco appear from the late 1740s, and are particularly associated with the hall and stair.42 As noted in Chapter 4, stucco itself was also thought by Isaac Ware to be the ‘grandest’ and most elegant finish for walls. Once again Bromwich’s were at the forefront; as early as 1749 they executed a large scheme, hanging 144 yards of ‘stuccoe paper’ and borders on a client’s staircase, for a total cost of £3.18s. Costing just over 16d. per yard, this was cheaper than the same bill’s flock, at 10s.4d. per yard, but more expensive than a ‘green sprig’ paper which cost just 11d. per yard.43

Challenging the high arts 117 By 1765 ‘straw ground stucco’ was supplied by Bromwich & Leigh for Stationers Hall, and some twenty years later a buff ground stucco paper was ordered.44 It is likely these accounts were again for a stair or hall; in 1774 The Modern Dictionary explained that ‘the paper [. . .] being made in representation of stucco work’ was intended ‘for the covering of cielings [sic], or the sides of halls, stair-cases, passages, &c’.45 Like papier mâché, stucco paper was adaptable to different architectural styles, indeed it is possible that some stucco paper designs actually imitated papier mâché rather than stucco itself. It proved an especially attractive finish in hard-to-get-to areas such as ceilings, halls, passages and the tall narrow stair of the London house, which had traditionally been decorated with plasterwork or carved wood. This market was highlighted when Squire bought Whittle’s, enabling him to advertise several new designs for staircases ‘lately finish’d’ and ‘far Superior to any hitherto exhibited’.46 Skills in block cutting were crucial to successfully imitate the three-dimensional effects of light and shade achieved by plasterwork or papier mâché, as was the ability to source a range of shades to achieve the effects of chiaroscuro. Such designs are usually printed in up to five colours, ranging from white through greys or browns and sometimes black on a grey or buff ground. This did allow manufacturers to make the best use of what was still, in the 1750s, a limited palette. Stucco was particularly linked to stone and dove grey colouring in the minds of contemporaries, indeed the one could suggest the other: a ‘stoco ground paper with blue stripes and sprigs’ was supplied by the cabinet-maker Henry Hills for an attic bedroom at Penrice Castle in Wales in 1778, while Elizabeth Montagu, decorating her Hill Street house in 1751, refers to ‘patterns [of] all kinds of dove coloured paper from Mr Bromedge’s [Bromwich’s] shop’.47 The ease with which the ground colour of stucco patterned wallpaper could be altered may be what allowed it to be hung in spaces in the home beyond the traditional place of stucco in the hall and stair. This is borne out by Bromwich & Leigh’s accounts for Stoneleigh, where stucco papers were hung in both the service and family areas. A straw ground stucco paper in a water closet (at 3½d. per yard) was the same price as another stucco paper in the housekeeper’s closet, while in the family areas crimson ground stucco paper was hung in a bedchamber (at 5d. per yard) and stucco paper (at 3d. per yard), in the closets to the No. 1 bedchamber, itself hung with a mock flock in yellow and white. However, it was not just ground colour that differentiated these designs but hanging cost: in the closets hanging added just over a penny to the price,

Figure 5.5  Stucco paper, c.1760, block printed in black and pale grey on cream (? originally yellow) ground, English (originally from Earl’s Hall Farmhouse, Prittlewell, Essex).

118  Challenging the high arts but in the bedchamber it was hung over linen, and fixed not with size but with nails. This made its put up price over double the cost of the paper itself suggesting that it demanded complex matching, perhaps reflecting a design with a dropped repeat.48 The question remains of what stucco paper actually looked like. Lady Luxborough described ‘the pattern of a common stucco-paper, which is generally a mosaic formed by a [ceiling] rose in a kind of octagon’.49 A ceiling paper, block printed with imitation stucco roses and lozenges set on a background stencilled in five colours in imitation of wood of c.1715–25 from a house in Faversham, Kent, may well be this type of paper, since geometric shapes enclose the ornament (Plate 1). Stucco papers could also imitate more fluid Rococo swags, carefully printed to suggest shading around the ornament, as in an example of c.1760 from an Essex farmhouse, Earl’s Hall (Figure 5.5) printed in black and pale grey on what may have been a yellow ground. A pattern derived from arches is one that was also adapted to stucco papers. An example of this kind of design, the arches softened by bouquets of flowers, demonstrates what Peter Guillery has called ‘genteel vernacular tastes’ in what was still a semi-rural area in Islington, hung in a house completed in 1785. It employed not printing but stencilling, suggesting that taste for this design extended well down the social scale.50 It is far more usual that the Gothic, rather than the Rococo, was linked to a stuccopaper, as detailed in the eight pieces of festoon Gothic stucco paper in Squire’s bill. No-where is this seen more clearly than in schemes devised by Horace Walpole and his circle. The use of stucco wallpapers at Strawberry Hill offers further insights into how this was played out in the hands of Walpole, his friend the designer Richard Bentley (1708–82), and his wallpaper supplier, Bromwich’s. Walpole, in turn, is often characterised as ignoring architectural propriety and rules regarding scale and material, and the house’s decoration seen as inauthentic in relation to later nineteenth century taste for the Gothic and archaeological accuracy.51 However, as noted above in relation to papier mâché, Walpole was not concerned simply with authenticity, but rather by the possibilities of combining decorative materials – some new, some old – to create theatrical effects. These included coloured and patterned papers, papier mâché, stained glass and floor coverings. Chalcroft and Viscari’s extensive studies of the papered spaces at Strawberry have revealed the role of wallpapers in achieving these effects; in the case of the stucco and Gothic papers these were often based on Walpole’s love of trompe l’æil. For example by 1770 ‘paper in imitation of stucco’ was hung in Walpole’s Refectory, or Great Parlour.52 Black finished chairs, their seat backs carved in imitation of Gothic tracery, were placed around the walls and threw shadows which reproduced the effects of light filtered through lancet windows, so further enhancing the effects of the imitation of carved stone on the wallpaper. On the hall and stair the interplay was yet more complex, since the plain paper hung by Bromwich’s in c.1753 was painted in situ with Gothic architectural detailing reproducing the effects of light and shade particular to the site. The work was carried out under Bentley’s direction by one of Bromwich’s workmen, whom Walpole called ‘Tudor’. According to Walpole this was because Bentley refused to paint it himself, although the reality might be simply that Bromwich’s were better able to meet Walpole’s desire for a bespoke scheme. It has been argued that by duplicating Gothic motifs in this way in modern materials such as wallpapers Walpole sought to ‘domesticate’ the Gothic without betraying the past.53 There were other factors involved, too, firstly connections to the Gothic novel. Walpole’s own account of a visitor’s intended encounter with the hall and stair highlighted the effects of what he called ‘gloomth’:

Challenging the high arts 119 under two gloomy arches, you come to the hall and staircase, which it is impossible to describe to you, as it is the most particular and chief beauty of the castle. Imagine the walls covered with (I call it paper, but it is really paper painted in perspective to represent) Gothic fretwork).54 (see Plate 15) What seems to have underlain this scheme then was the desire to convey proto-sublime lighting effects, indeed it has been argued that it is linked to the description of the hall in Walpole’s archetypal Gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto, published in 1764.55 In this sense then the hall was intended as the visual embodiment of a fictional space. Second, the decoration was part of a desire to ‘collect’ representations of the past, since Bentley’s source for the design was an engraving published in 1677 of the screen in Prince Arthur’s (1486–1502) tomb in Worcester Cathedral. The use of this source can be seen against the fashion for collecting topographical prints, a response in part to what Lucy Peltz has called ‘a crisis in national and cultural identity’. For wallpaper designers these prints offered different viewpoints on buildings which could be used to create patterns which fed into a desire to ‘keep the past in sight’.56 The scheme was in this sense intended to evoke a specific sense of time and place, since visitors to Strawberry (rather than Walpole’s personal friends) would have emerged from the Armoury to view the scheme from the first-floor balustrade. The effect would have appeared as if they were standing inside the tomb of Prince Arthur itself, surrounded by objects associated with the Plantagenets.57 In reality Bentley’s design bore little relation to the original tomb’s screen, which Walpole saw in 1753 and found not only smaller in scale than the paper, but made of brass not stone and ‘wretchedly whitewashed’. Indeed, it is possible that Walpole’s decision to redecorate the hall in the 1770s and again in the early 1790s may have been part of a desire for greater accuracy. The paper, however, had a life beyond Strawberry since Bromwich’s seemingly cut blocks for a simplified version of the design and by 1755 the wallpaper was hung in the Great dining-room at Latimers in Buckinghamshire, where Walpole saw it, declaring in a letter to Bentley that it was ‘not shaded properly like mine’.58 An engraved print of a carved stone object thus became the source for a painted scheme on paper, itself reproduced as a printed wallpaper, in a vivid illustration of the way in which a wallpaper can simultaneously juxtapose multiple imitations based on a single object. Gray was another member of Walpole’s circle; he evidently had a special interest in decoration since in 1761 he advised his friend, Thomas Wharton, about the choice of papers for Wharton’s family home, Old Park near Durham. Forced to abandon a search for tapestry, which he told Wharton was being disdained in favour of the fashion for wallpaper, even Bromwich’s offered limited options, as Gray wrote: On rummageing Mr Bromwich’s & several other shops I am forced to tell you, that there are absolutely no papers at all, that deserve the name of Gothick, or that you bear the sight of. They are all what they call fancy, & indeed resemble nothing but ever was in use in any age or country.59 For Gray then the wallpapers on offer were all seen as ‘fancy’, inauthentic designs even when printed to imitate stucco. He added that ‘I much doubt the effect of colour (any other than the tints of stucco) would have in a gothic design on paper, and here [in London] they have nothing to judge from’.60

120  Challenging the high arts Gray recommended that, like Walpole, Wharton should select his own design source instead, copying a detail either from a print (he recommended Dart’s Canterbury or the antiquary William Dugdale’s Warwickshire, the latter illustrated by Wenceslas Hollar) or from an actual building local to Wharton, Durham Cathedral. This recommendation reflected his claim that papers could not reproduce the variety of perspectives that Gothic design offered, since: I own I never yet saw any Gothic papers to my fancy. there is one fault, that is the nature of the thing, & can not be avoided. The great beauty of all Gothick designs is the variety of perspectives they occasion. this a painter may represent on the walls of the room in some measure; but not a Designer of Papers, where, what is represented on one breadth, must be exactly repeated on another, both in light and shade, and in the dimensions. This we cannot help; but they do not even do what they might: they neglect Hollar, to copy Mr Halfpenny’s architecture, so that all they do is more like a goosepie than a cathedral. You seem to suppose, that they do Gothic papers in colours, but I never saw any but such as were to look like Stucco: nor indeed do I conceive that they would have any effect or meaning.61 For Gray, as wallpapers were designed to create an exact repeat they could never rival the variety a painter might achieve. Moreover, he criticised paper designers’ who, rather than using supposedly accurate seventeenth-century sources such as Hollar, turned instead to the fanciful designs of their contemporary William Halfpenny, known for his chinoiserie designs. Gray also compares the design to Goose Pie House, a house in Whitehall designed in 1701 by Sir John Vanburgh, and likened by Jonathan Swift to a goose pie. This was a reference to the building’s ‘cut-out’ effects like the edge of this pie dish, but here Gray aligns it with Halfpenny’s equally paper-based ‘fake’ style. His final solution was that Wharton send him his design; Gray would then approach Bromwich’s to prepare a bespoke design and cut new blocks to print it: They will execute it here, & make a new stamp on purpose, provided you will take 20 pieces of it, & it will come to ½ or a penny a yard the more (according to the work, that is in it). This I really think worth your while [. . .] you can proportion the whole better to the dimensions of your room.62 He illustrated a quatrefoil patterns from Bromwich’s, warning Wharton that ‘very likely it is common [i.e. not bespoke] & besides it is not pure gothick’. However, Wharton lacked either the purse, or the will, for this, and Gray reluctantly ordered the quatrefoil pattern, admitting it was ‘rather pretty, & nearly Gothick’.63 It was not only Walpole and his circle who used stucco papers, however. Further down the social scale the successful Stafford apothecary Brooke Crutchley demonstrated their wider appeal.64 Crutchley became a prominent figure in the life of the town, and this may be why in 1758 he acquired his own piece of the Gothic in the shape of the sixteenth-century Ancient High House on the town’s main street, albeit one whose interior he sought to modernise by papering over lath and plaster, like Walpole ignoring architectural propriety. On the stair, which extends from the ground to the second floor and gave access to his apartments on the south side of the house, papers were hung in panels to suggest a façade composed of architectural ornament framing plaster niches (Figure 5.6). However, these papers were far from purely Gothic in style, since individual panels

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Figure 5.6  Stair at the Ancient High House, Stafford, decorated between first and second storeys with figure and landscape panels, framed with lengths of ceiling paper in imitation of stucco, hung after 1758, block printed in brown, black and white on a grey ground, English.

consist of a framework of classical pilasters supporting gothic tracery, the entablatures punctuated by gothic trefoils, enclosing figures of the goddess Flora, while landscape panels included scenes of hunting and a pagoda. This scheme recalls the designs of the pioneer of the Rococo, Batty Langley (1696–1751), in its mixture of creative elements, while the figures imitate contemporary porcelain figure groups, a point Cornforth noted in 1984, suggesting Bow or Chelsea as a source.65 It is possible that the panels were cut from a single piece printed with a repeating design of niches, so creating a bespoke effect at a fraction of the price. A stucco paper was also used as a wide border on the stair and adjoining passage, perhaps in a similar manner to the ‘stoco borders’ listed in Squire’s account, although here a paper intended for the ceiling appears to have been adapted for the purpose.66 Stucco paper was also hung farther afield, for example by the alderman and barrister James Hewitt (1709–89) who wanted stucco pattern paper for the stair in his rented house in Coventry, but only as far as guests would go, instructing that the upper part of his hall was to be decorated only if there was enough wallpaper left over from hanging the hall.67 Traces of a paper imitating a classical entablature, similar to an (unused) fragment from the Old Manor, Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire, were also found in a room leading off a second-floor passage at the Ancient High House. Although Stephen Hague has argued that Gloucestershire gentlemen did not take up the taste for wallpaper until the 1750s, and even then it was not typical, however, the papers from the Old Manor suggest that by the 1760s the taste for imitation of classical ruins and sculpted allegories extended to Gloucestershire gentry houses.68 The ceiling paper is

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Figure 5.7  Reproduction of portion of a stucco ceiling paper imitating classical architecture and sculpture, original late 1760s, block printed in browns, white and black on a buff ground, English (originally from The Old Manor, Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire).

printed to imitate stucco in in the form of classical architectural ornament and figurative sculpture (Figure 5.7). It took as its subject the Arts: Music, Poetry, Painting and Sculpture, with Sculpture being represented by a male sculptor carving a female bust, which was intended to appear as if looking down at the room’s occupants, and which faced a male subject depicted on the canvas of Painting. Two papers evidently intended for use on the wall are also related to this ceiling paper, although, as they are unused, it is unclear where in the Old Manor the patterns may have been hung, if at all. A single length of fictive arches printed in chiaroscuro on a dramatic yellow ground was intended to be hung alongside other lengths to create the effect of a colonnade hung with floral swags.69 Another length (presumably supplied by the same firm) survives as a half repeat, printed in subtle greys, brown and white, which serves to contrast with the yellow ground. Here, imitation stucco framed pictures linked by swags are combined with trophies of musical instruments,

Challenging the high arts 123 reinforcing the musical elements in the ceiling paper. A ceiling paper imitating sculpted allegories, and a wallpaper imitating stucco or papier mâché, therefore appropriated elements from both high art and commercial products. In the 1920s Mrs Simpson Hayward, the then owner of the papers, recalled that ‘some of the spaces in the design [. . . were] occupied by old portraits of her ancestors in papier mâché frames’, suggesting that three and two-dimensional imitations were integrated in at least one actual scheme, in the same manner as at Doddington.70

‘Landskip, Ruins, Figures & C’: wallpapers depicting the ‘Ruins of Rome’ It was not only the motifs of Gothic or classical architecture, but also scenes composed of landscapes, ruins and figures in a classical style which were used in wallpapers. These were either printed as panels surrounded by ornaments, or, more rarely, as a repeating design. They reflected the ways in which drawings by Robert Adam’s circle, influenced by the work of Piranesi, prioritised the ruin over archaeological objectives, using devices such as visual selectivity, the transposition of actual ruins into fictitious contexts and a generic vocabulary of Roman architectural forms in so-called ‘ruins’ which were entirely invented.71 Stark was one such supplier, who advertised that he could ornament ‘Halls, & Stair-cases, with Landskips, Ruins, Figures & c. on Paper & Canvass, the Genteelest & best manner’ from a fashionable address only a few doors down from Bromwich’s on Ludgate Hill.72 Another name associated with this fashion is the woodcutter and printer John Baptist Jackson (c.1700–after 1773), a figure much admired by early wallpaper historians.73 Jackson had studied in Italy before setting up a factory in Chelsea in 1752 to print paper hangings in oils, rather than distemper. His ‘New-invented Paper Hangings, printed in Oil Colours (after the Mthod of Hugo di Carpi)’ and ‘Landscapes printed in Colours, to represent Paintings’ were sold at Dunbar’s and by Henry Overton.74 These consisted not only of repeating designs printed in oils based on ornament and flowers, but also reproductions of Old Masters. In 1754 Jackson published ‘An Essay on the Invention of Engraving and Printing in Chiaroscuro [. . .] and the Application of it to the Making Paper hangings of Taste, Duration and Elegance’ to promote his designs and discredit the Chinese taste (‘a thorough Confusion of all the Elements’), promising that: The Person who cannot purchase the Statues themselves may have these Prints in their Place; and may effectually shew his [sic] Taste and Admiration of the ancient Artists in this manner of fitting up and finishing his Apartments, as in the most expensive. ’Tis the Choice and not the Price which discovers the true Taste of the Possessor.75 For Jackson then, his prints would enable the modestly affluent purchaser to achieve antique effects. In 1784 Joseph Booth claimed that the ‘manufactory at Battersea for the purpose of ornamenting rooms with paper-hangings’ failed due to Jackson’s early death.76 However, despite Walpole’s endorsement of Jackson’s prints, it is more likely that printing wallpapers in oil colours was a commercial failure. Not only did oil colours fade more easily than distemper, but there was a lack of unity and awkward repeats evident in his patterns.

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Figure 5.8  Upper hall (south wall), Harrington House, Bourton-on-the-Water, Gloucestershire, hung c.1786, with paper panels imitating ruins and grotesques enclosing figure groups, painted en grisaille on a pink ground, English, photographed in the 1920s.

One scheme previously attributed to Jackson, and now known only from photographs, was the upper hall at another site in Bourton-on-the-Water, Harrington House (Figure 5.8).77 This painted decoration was, however, supplied by a paper hangings manufacturer, since wallpaper tax stamps were found on the reverse.78 Harrington, attributed to William Townesend, was rebuilt in what David Verey labels ‘regionalPalladian-style’ for a local lawyer, William Moore (d.1768) in c.1740.79 There was nothing provincial about the interiors, which still feature elaborate plasterwork ceilings and a Venetian window on the stair. The painted decoration of the upper hall is thought have been put up at the time of Moore’s widow’s, Lady Harrington’s, third marriage in 1786.80 It comprised a pair of singeries enclosed by Rococo foliage, hung either side of the central window, while the two long walls were each filled by a trio of panels consisting of a pair of grotesques with central figure groups, which in turn flanked a different landscape view of classical ruins and urns, all enclosed by Rococostyle scrollwork. The overall effect was of a Rococo style incorporating elements from antique, Chinese and French sources. It has been claimed that such schemes were derived from print rooms, but it seems more likely that they reflected the contemporary taste for the ruin, seen for example in the painted scenes executed in situ by Italian artists at houses such as Shugborough.81 This taste is seen in miniature in the dining room of Lady Anne Blackett’s baby house of c.1760.82 Such painted views were evidently influential in creating demand for

Challenging the high arts 125 printed panels; in 1755 Squire announced his new invented paper printed in ‘Chiari Obscuri’ consisting of ‘several Pieces of the ancient Ruins of Rome, taken from Paolo Panini, and several other Designs, among which are Belisarius’, presumably a reference to Panini’s Roman Ruins with the Blind Belisarius. Squire claimed he could put these up with ‘proper Embellishments of Vases, Trophies, Festoons, & C.’, and papier mâché ornaments, explicitly advertised for hanging in halls and on staircases.83 The role played by the print trade in the dissemination of Rococo designs, including those derived from French sources, is also seen at Harrington. The grotesque panels were based on engravings after Watteau, whilst the trophies derive from a Huquier engraving after Charpentier.84 However, the grotesque ornament is also identical to that used in the Chinese panels hung in the parlour at Hampden House (Plate 5); the difference is that, whereas at Hampden the central scenes are of Chinese figures, here they were composed of European figures. Given the probable date of the Hampden scheme (c.1758) the possibility exists that the Harrington panels are in some way indebted to these. This argument is strengthened by the association of the grotesques with a London printer, John Ryall of Fleet Street, in a reversed form of the original dated 1761.85 Even consumers decorating a Palladian-style house in a small Gloucestershire town could then undermine the very basis of polite taste by employing painted paper hangings combining classical and Rococo motifs. Such scenes were also available in printed versions further down the social scale. John Cole was a shear grinder in Stroud in Gloucestershire, a centre of the textile trade from an early date. In c.1714 Cole rebuilt his house on Wallbridge, and, like Brooke Crutchley, he used wallpapers as part of the updating of the lath and plaster interior.86 These included a design of repeating vignettes of classical ruins, framed by Rococo scrolls and swags, printed on a red ground which seemingly came from a ground floor room, probably the hall (Plate 16). Although much smaller in scale than the Harrington scheme, it does echo its form and in all likelihood they had the same ground colour, too, the pinky-red offsetting the tones of grey and white. The Wallbridge paper was carefully matched when hung, so that the vignettes were arranged to form horizontals. However, when more than one design of vignette was involved, hanging stucco wallpaper could be more complicated. In the hall of a house in Oxfordshire a similar design, this time with two different vignettes of chinoiserie scenes, was hung with the same motifs side by side. This may have been because the paper hangers did not know how to install a dropped repeat to create variety, however, it may also reflect a taste for horizontals of the same motifs (Figure 5.9). Surviving examples of repeating patterns based on landscapes made up of ruins, rather than ruins used as individual scenes, are much rarer in Britain. Two surviving stair papers come from Boston Manor, Brentford, and from Young Street, Kensington. These wallpapers’ repeats are vast, in the case of Boston Manor measuring over 2.1 metres, rivalling that of the flocks discussed in Chapter 4, so the stair offered a space where they could be seen to advantage. Boston Manor House was renovated in the 1670s when it was acquired by a successful London merchant, James Clitherow (1618–82). His descendent, Ann Clitherow (d.1801) carried out further improvements in the eighteenth-century.87 A floral design (perhaps a Chinese wallpaper) is visible below a detail from the ‘ruins’ paper photographed during restoration in 1961, so this scheme may have been intended to update the stair.88 The wallpaper depicts a classical landscape peopled with fragments of

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Figure 5.9  Stucco wallpaper with pattern composed of Chinese and Rococo style motifs, block printed in white, black and greys on a grey ground, stamped GR for 1760–83, English (originally from the ground floor, formerly the hall [?] of an Oxfordshire vicarage).

architecture and sculpture, recalling the fragments of chinoiserie architecture and gardens depicted in the English made papers of the 1760s (Plate 17). Indeed it is possible the paper may date from the 1760s rather than the 1780s, since the same paper was hung in the entry (the stair hall) to the Lady Pepperell House, Maine, by Mary Hirst, Lady Pepperrell, after 1760.89 In the Boston Manor House wallpaper architectural motifs and figures combine to highlight how printed wallpapers responded both to taste for the cult of the ruin and the importance attached to a classical education. Although I have found no exact source, some elements, notably the sphinx on a plinth with the jagged tree above and the paired male figures, echo the capriccio of Istrian and Dalmatian remains which formed the frontispiece to Adam’s The Ruins of the Palace of the Emperor Diocletian at Spalatro in Dalmatia published in 1764, suggesting one source might be capricci.90 Moreover the wallpaper is not just about imitating the antique, but also takes up the theme of education in the classical world reflected in the male figures in contemporary dress who are shown attempting to decipher an inscription, indeed one may be instructing a pupil.91

Challenging the high arts 127 However, a second design depicting ruins, fragments of which were found on the first-floor landing at 16 Young Street, was probably hung by the Holborn cabinet maker John Richards who occupied the house from 1760–73. Again, the wallpaper is vast in scale and depicts ruined remains which tower over a pair of figures. Cornforth suggested it was close in feeling less to other wallpapers depicting ruins than to an English textile, citing Robert Jones’s ‘Pastoral Scene’, a printed cotton of c.1760 which combined ruins with figures and animals derived from a Berghem etching of 1652.92 Nor are these fragments the pure antique scheme they appear, since the egg and dart printed borders were combined with dado and frieze papers which reproduced Gothic mouldings. Moreover the choice of stair paper not only suggests Richards’ own aspirations to polite society, but his desire to attract a fashionable clientele since, as Rosoman noted, a number of upholsterers and cabinet-makers bought or took over leases on London houses which they redecorated and let out for high rents during the season.93 Why then were scenes showing the rediscovery of antique remains thought appropriate subjects for wallpapers? On the one hand, the antique taste was supposedly employed to distance the user from the ruinous path of excess and self-indulgence. Yet this paper’s vast and complex repeat conveys not neatness, but ‘shew’, which may, however, have been thought more appropriate to the hall and stair which were not so tightly bound into hierarchies of decoration as other spaces in the home. The appropriation of the subject matter of high art for printed reproduction in two dimensions also challenges the very basis of antique taste in the study of classical sculpture and ruined remains. What is clear is that aside from papier mâché and stucco papers, wallpapers depicting scenes of ruins seem to have been a substitute for the work of painters, and are recorded in the homes of gentry and prosperous townsfolk as well as to give cachet to rented houses in London. These designs may therefore have enabled what Clare Hornsby has labelled ‘the cultural programme of the oligarchy’ to reach a much wider group.94 Papier mâché, stucco and landscape wallpapers offered complex challenges in imitating carved wood, plaster and stone. In the case of the wallpapers they demanded printing skills to imitate three-dimensional effects, whereas in papier mâché the challenge was to copy the crispness of carving or plaster. Stucco and ‘landskip’ papers, more than any other type of eighteenth-century wallpaper, were aimed at one space, the hall and stair, although as we have seen stucco paper was also hung in other service and family areas of the home. Papier mâché, however, could be used all around the home for fillets and ornaments on the wall and ceiling, combining repeating designs which could be made into complete bespoke schemes. In different ways, the goods discussed in this chapter all challenged the divisions between high art and decoration, in the case of papier mâché concealing their imitation in the cloak of authentic finishes whether colour, silver or gilt. In the case of stucco and landscape papers it was their skilful visual effects, imitating in a narrow range of distemper colours the three-dimensional shading of wood, plaster and the natural world.

Notes 1 For a study of another type, japanned papier mâché, see Yvonne Jones, Japanned PapierMâché and Tinware c. 1740–1940 (Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club, 2012). 2 Katie Scott, ‘Foreword. Rococo Echo: Style and Temporality’, in Melissa Lee Hyde and Katie Scott, eds., Rococo Echo: Art, History and Historiography from Cochin to Coppola (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 2014), 2–3. 3 For example, Viccy Coltman, Fabricating the Antique: Neoclassicism in Britain, 1760–1800 (Chicago, IL and London: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 22.

128  Challenging the high arts 4 Barrett Kalter, Modern Antiques: The Material Past in England, 1660–1780 (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2012), 109–12. 5 Scott, Rococo Echo, 2–3. 6 Ibid., 15–17. 7 Patricia Crown, ‘British Rococo as Social and Political Style’ Eighteenth-Century Studies 23, no. 3 (Spring 1990), 269–70, 278–79. 8 Mimi Hellman, ‘Furniture, Sociability, and the Work of Leisure in Eighteenth-Century France’ Eighteenth-Century Studies 32, no. 4 (1999), 423. 9 Trade card, BM, BC 91.27, Ambrose Heal, ‘Paper-Stainers of the 17th and 18th Centuries’ fig. 8; London Evening Post, 18 December 1760, Burney. 10 ‘Invoice of Sundries Sent to America’, William Squire to General Schuyler, BM, HC 91.52 (facsimile of wrapper). I am grateful to the staff of the Prints and Drawings Study Room for locating this item. For more on Squire and the Schuyler House see Judy Andersen, The 18thCentury Wallpapers in the Jeremiah Lee Mansion in Marblehead, Massachusetts (Virginia Beach: Donning Company Publishers, 2011). 11 Isaac Ware, A Complete Body of Architecture (London: 1768, ECCO), 458. 12 Clive D. Edwards, Eighteenth-Century Furniture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), 157. 13 Brigid von Preussen, ‘“A Wild Kind of Imagination”: Eclecticism and Excess in the English Rococo Designs of Thomas Johnson’ in Lee Hyde and Scott, Rococo Echo, 191–211. 14 Quoted in Shirley Spaulding De Voe, English Papier Mâché of the Georgian and Victorian Periods (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1971), 30. 15 Booklet advertising ‘Royal Patent Manufactory’ inscr. (rev) May 1793, BM, BC 91.12, 2. The firm is discussed in Chapter 6. 16 Anon, The Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences; or, Complete System of Literature (Vol. 3. London: 1774, ECCO), 334–35. 17 Daily Advertiser, 8 February 1774, Burney. 18 Britannica Curiosa: Or a Description of the most Remarkable Curiosities, Natural and Artificial, of the Island of Great Britain (London: 1776), Vol. 3, 370. 19 Andrew Bush, ‘Rewarding Studies at Osterley Park’, National Trust Arts, Buildings, Collections Bulletin (Spring 2014), 8–9. 20 https://osterleybreakfastroom.wordpress.com/ 21 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Sir Gilbert Heathcote, Bart, 20 December 1777, Ancaster papers, 2o-ANC /12/D/32/2, Lincolnshire Archives. 22 Bill from Thomas Bromwich & Leonard Leigh to Willm [?] Turnour, 13 March 1759, BM, HC 91.11. 23 Thomas Mortimer, The Universal Director; or, the Nobleman and Gentleman’s True Guide to the Masters and Professors of the Liberal and Polite Arts and Sciences (London: 1763, ECCO), 6. 24 Morning Chronicle & London Advertiser, 18 November 1783, Burney. 25 Bill from Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley to Wm. Blaithwaite, 15 July 1769, Dyrham accounts, D1799/A364, Gloucestershire Archives. I am grateful to Elenor Ling of the Fitzwilliam Museum for information on Blaithwaite’s bills. See http://www.fitzmuseum. cam.ac.uk/gallery/tradebills. 26 Public Advertiser, 12 January 1768, Burney; letter from Robert Stark 28 January 1764, Lucys of Charlecote papers, Warwickshire Archives 00307 L06/1108. 27 Bill from Johnston & Young to Michie Esq, 15 October 1783, BM, HC 91.36. 28 Henrietta, Countess of Luxborough, to William Shenstone, 13 February 1751, Henrietta Knight, Letters Written by the late R.H. Lady Luxborough, to William Shenstone Esq. (London: 1775, ECCO), 236–37. 29 Luxborough to Shenstone, 4 June, 6 June and 19 July 1752. Ibid., 299–302, 305. 30 BM, HC 91.11. 31 John Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004), figs 255–257; John Cornforth, ‘Putting up with Georgian DIY’ Country Life (9 April 1992), fig. 5; email David Moore to author, 14 March 2017. 32 Mrs Delany to Mrs Dewes, 17 December 1749 in Lady Llanover ed., The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs Delany (London: Richard Bentley, 1861), Vol. 2, 532.

Challenging the high arts 129 On Duffours see Christopher Gilbert and Geoffrey Beard, Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (Leeds: Furniture History Society, 1986), 258; Simon, British Picture Framers, www. npg.org.uk/research/conservation/directory-of-british-framemakers. 33 Llanover, Letters of Mrs Delany, Vol. 3, 260. 34 Quoted in Christopher Hussey, English Country Houses: Mid Georgian, 1760–1800 (London: Country Life, 1956), 182; John Cornforth, ‘Picked out with Silver’, Country Life, 6 August 1992, 54–55. 35 Chalcroft and Viscari, Strawberry Hill: Horace Walpole’s Gothic Castle (London: Frances Lincoln, 2007), 73–77. 36 See Chapter 3. 37 At least one tradesman, Hugh Edmunds, described himself as a ‘Dealer in India pictures, Paper-hangings and Mashee-ornaments’, suggesting he could accommodate all these needs. See Gazette, 26 August 1766, Burney. 38 Nikolas Pevsner and Alan Brooks, Worcestershire (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 363. 39 De Voe, English Papier Mâché, 30; Geoffrey Tyack, Warwickshire Country Houses (Chichester: Phillimore, 1994), 1–5; Mark Girouard, ‘Alscot Park, Warwickshire – II’ Country Life (22 May 1958), 1124–27. 40 A fragment of the papier mâché is V&A, VAM W. 54–197. 41 www.npg.org.uk/research/conservation/directory-of-british-framemakers. 42 On the term stucco see Claire Gapper, ‘What is “Stucco”? English Interpretations of an Italian Term’ Architectural History 42 (1999), 333–43. 43 Bill from Thomas Bromwich to Mr Bennett, 19 August 1749, BM, HC 91.7. 44 Robin Myers, The Stationers’ Company Archives, An Account of the Records 1554–1984 (Winchester: St Paul’s Bibliographies, 1990), 125. 45 Anon, Modern Dictionary, Vol. 3, 334. 46 London Evening Post, 18 December 1760, Burney. 47 Joanna Martin, Wives and Daughters: Women and Children in the Georgian Country House (London/New York: Hambledon, 2004), 91–92; Quoted in Emily J. Climenson, ed., Elizabeth Montagu, The Queen of the Bluestockings: Her Correspondence from 1720 to 1761 (London: John Murray, 1906), Vol. 1, 294. 48 Bill from Bromwich & Leigh to Lord Leigh, 1763–64, papers Leighs of Stoneleigh, DR 18/5/4402, Shakespeare Birthplace Archive. 49 Luxborough, Letters, 236. 50 Peter Guillery, The Small House in Eighteenth-Century London: A Social and Architectural History (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press/Paul Mellon Foundation in association with English Heritage, 2004), 243. 51 For example, see Chris Brooks, The Gothic Revival (London: Phaidon, 1999), 90–91. 52 Simon Swynford-Jenkins, ‘Furniture in Eighteenth-Century Country House Guides’ Furniture History 42 (2006), 131. 53 Kalter, Modern Antiques, 138. 54 12 June 1753, quoted in Horace Walpole’s Correspondence with Sir Horace Mann, ed. W.S. Lewis with Warren Hunting Smith and George L. Lam (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1960), Vol. 4, 380–81. 55 Chalcroft and Viscari, Strawberry Hill, 40–41. 56 Lucy Peltz, ‘Aestheticizing the Ancestral City: Antiquarianism, Topography and the Representation of London in the Long Eighteenth Century’ in The Metropolis and its Image: Constructing Identities for London, c.1750–1950, ed. Dana Arnold (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), 9–10 and 14. 57 Chalcroft and Viscari, Strawberry Hill, 28. 58 Anna Chalcroft, ‘The Use of Light to Enhance Wallpaper in a Gothic House’ Wallpaper History Review (2004/05), 53–55. I am grateful to Anna Chalcroft, and to Kevin Rogers of Peter Inskip & Peter Jenkins Architects, for details of these schemes. 59 Clive Wainwright, The Romantic Interior: The British Collector at Home 1750–1850 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1989), 98; Kalter, Modern Antiques, 137, 144. 60 Quoted in Edward Croft-Murray, Decorative Painting in England 1537–1837 (London: Country Life, 1970), Vol. 2, 43.

130  Challenging the high arts 61 Quoted in Michael Archer, ‘Gothic Wallpapers, An Aspect of the Gothic Revival’ Apollo 78 (August 1963), 110. 62 1761, quoted in Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors, 236; Kalter, Modern Antiques, 145. 63 Kalter, Modern Antiques, 146. 64 For his choice of flocks see Chapter 4. 65 John Cornforth, ‘Archaeology and Wallpaper’ Country Life (26 January 1984), 218–19. 66 This stucco paper resembles that from Clandon. 67 Quoted in Amanda Vickery, Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2009), 93. 68 Stephen Hague, The Gentleman’s House in the British Atlantic World 1680–1780 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 91–92. 69 According to the donor, Mrs Simpson Hayward, this was one of five lengths in 1926, see V&A Registered Files for E.964-1926. 70 A.V. Sugden and J.L. Edmondson, A History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914. (London: Batsford, 1925), caption to pl. 39a, now VAM E.965–1926; E.966-1926 is shown in fig 5.7. 71 Frank Salmon, Building on Ruins: The Rediscovery of Rome and English Architecture (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 43–44. 72 Trade card, Robert Stark, Ludgate Hill, 1780s, BM, HC 91.53. 73 For a more recent assessment of Jackson see Evelyn Wöldicke, ‘John Baptist Jackson’s Woodcuts and the Question of Embossing’ Print Quarterly 32, no.3 (2017), 298–310. 74 Daily Advertiser 21 March, 1752; Tim Clayton, The English Print 1688–1802 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1997), 98. 75 Quoted in C.C. Oman and J. Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), 24. 76 Joseph Booth, A Treatise Explanatory of the Nature and Properties of Pollaplasiasmos: or the Original Invention of Multiplying Pictures in Oils ([London]: [1784], ECCO). 77 Photographs taken in the 1920s depict the scheme before its removal from the wall, see Nancy McClelland, Historic Wall-Papers (Philadelphia, PA and London: J.B. Lippincott, 1924), pls 146–49; Susan Lambert ed., Pattern and Design: Designs for the Decorative Arts. (London: Victoria & Albert Museum, 1983), pl. 4; Historic England archive, https:// historicengland.org.uk/images-books/photos/englands-places/. 78 Tracing of stamp ‘PAPER J’, NMR BB79/4820, Historic England archive. The then owner, J.A. Fort, claimed he found the date 1786 on the back of the paper; quoted in Sugden and Edmondson, History, 68. 79 Andor Gomme, ‘Craftsmen-Architects or Reptile Artizans’ in Baroque and Palladian: The Early Eighteenth Century Great House, Proceedings of Conference held at Oxford University Department of Continuing Education ed. Malcolm Airs (Oxford: University of Oxford, Department of Continuing Education, 1996), 18; David Verey, Gloucestershire: The Cotswolds (London: Penguin, 1989), 130. 80 HF Holidays, A History of Harrington House, Bourton-on-the-Water, n.d. I am grateful to Tia Marcos for this reference. 81 Guy Evans, ‘Cultured Elegance: English 18th Century Scenic Wallpapers’ Wallpaper History Review (2001), 28–30. 82 http://collections.museumoflondon.org.uk/online/object/755643.html. See Barbara SpadacciniDay, ‘Les peintures de paysage dans les maisons de poupée’ in French Scenic Wallpapers 1795–1865, ed. Odile Nouvel-Kammerer (Paris: Musée des Arts décoratifs/Flammarion, 2000), 64–70. 83 London Advertiser, 17 April 1755 in Burney. For the Belisaurius see Leeds Museum & Art Gallery cat. 128871. 84 For a discussion of the relationship of the Harrington scheme to sites in New England see Edna Donnell, ‘The Van Rensselaer Wall Paper and J.B. Jackson: A Study in Disassociation’ Metropolitan Museum Studies 4, no. 1 (February 1932): 76–108; Amelia Peck, ‘The Van Rensselaer Hall’ in Period Rooms in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ed. John P. O’Neill (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art; New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1996), 197–203; Andersen, 18th-Century Wallpapers in the Jeremiah Lee Mansion.

Challenging the high arts 131 85 Lambert, Pattern & Design, cat. 2.4c. 86 David Mullan, e-mail message to the author, 22 February 2011; unpublished account of the panels’ removal in 1970 by Lionel Walrond, n.d., copy in Stroud Museum files. 87 Ann Cliterow’s ‘Calculation of the Expence of new fitting up my Drawing room’, 1786, included spending on stucco work, painting and carpentry on the staircase. Isherwood’s [Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley] supplied the paper for the drawing room, so it is possible they supplied the stair paper, too. See Janet McNamara, Boston Manor Brentford (Hounslow: Heritage Publications, Leisure Services, 1998), 20. 88 Donald Insall, ‘Discoveries at Boston Manor’ Letter to Country Life, 2 November 1961, 1068, central fig. 89 Richard C. Nylander, Elizabeth Redmond and Penny J. Sander, Wallpaper in New England (Boston, MA: Society for the Preservation of New England Antiquities, 1986), cat.5b. 90 Eileen Harris, The Genius of Robert Adam: His Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2001), pl. 102. 91 The tablet is inscribed EQ.I/T.RI/DEUS/CC. 92 See John Cornforth, ‘History from London Walls’ Country Life (19 November 1992), 53. 93 Treve Rosoman, London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840. (London: English Heritage, 1992), 38. 94 The Impact of Italy: The Grand Tour and Beyond, ed. Clare Hornsby (Rome: The British School at Rome, 2000), 9.

Plate 1  Ceiling paper and border, after 1715 and before 1725, stencilled and block printed English, stamped ‘PAPER 8’ (originally from a house in Faversham, Kent).

Plate 2a&b  Painted and embossed leather panel late seventeenth century, English, and flocked panel on a mica glazed ground, late seventeenth century, English (originally hung in an alternating pattern in a room at Ivy House, Worcester, c.1680). The flock attributed to the Blue Paper Warehouse (see Figure 1.3), the leather by a London maker.

Plate 3  Chinese Bedroom, Blickling Hall, Norfolk, detail of ‘rail’ border imitating bamboo trellis, hung c.1761 (see Figure 3.1), painted in ink and colour washes, Chinese. Inscribed (verso) ‘1758’ and ‘[?] Suffolk’ of ‘[?] Lott 30’.

Plate 4  Library (formerly the State bedchamber), Hampden House, Buckinghamshire, hung with Chinese wallpaper c.1758 (see Figure 3.2), photographed 1890s.

Plate 5  Wallpaper panel imitating grotesques with Chinese figures drinking tea and imitation bamboo border, c.1750, watercolour and body colour, Chinese, with additions, English, 1920s (originally from the parlour, later the dining room, Hampden House, Buckinghamshire).

Plate 6  Unknown artist, Thomas Coutts’ Drawing Room, after 1822, watercolour, showing Chinese wallpaper associated with Lord Macartney’s Embassy.

Plate 7  Wallpaper panel of Indian Prince with attendant, 1760s, etched and hand coloured, English, stamped ‘PAPER 4’, inscribed (verso) Indian Prince [?] bleu.

Plate 8  Chimney blind (half repeat), etched and hand coloured, 1760s, English, inscribed (verso) Chimney [?] Ps k/1/pr.

Plate 9  First floor bedchamber (later the Red Chamber) at Clandon Park, Surrey, hung c.1735, with flock wallpaper and border, English. Areas patched in and border reproduced under the direction of John Fowler, c.1969–70. Author’s photo, 2007.

Plate 10  William Hogarth (1697–1764), The Lady’s Last Stake, 1759, oil on canvas.

Plate 11  Wallpaper, flocked and block printed, c.1770, English (originally from the first floor at 26, Soho Square, London).

Plate 12  John Yenn, R.A. (1750–1821), Design for a Town House: Section, c.1775, pen with black ink, coloured washes and gouache, 62.1 × 98 cm.

Plate 13  Green drawing room, Clandon Park, Surrey, hung in the 1730s with ‘mock flock’ wallpaper, block printed, English. Paper uncovered under later brocatelle and retouched under the direction of John Fowler, c.1969–70. Author’s photo, 2007.

Plate 14  Johann Zoffany (1733–1810), Sir Lawrence Dundas with his Grandson, 1769, oil on canvas, 101.6 × 127 cm.

Plate 15  Richard Bentley (1708–1782), Perspective of the Hall & Staircase at Strawberry Hill, pen and ink and watercolour on laid paper, c.1753.

Plate 16  Stucco wallpaper with scenes of ruins, block printed, c.1770, English (originally from the hall [?], 10–12 Wallbridge, Stroud, Gloucestershire).

Plate 17  Upper stair, Boston Manor House, Middlesex, hung with landscape paper imitating classical remains, block printed, 1760s or 1780s, English, attributed to Isherwood’s.

Plate 18 Unknown artist, Portrait of John Middleton and his Family, oil on canvas, c.1795–97, 88.2 × 110.5 cm.

Plate 19  Jane Maxwell Fordyce (fl.1796), Portrait of Elizabeth Anne Fordyce (painting watercolour landscapes) in the Little Sitting Room at Putney Hill, 1796, watercolour with pen and ink on paper, 30.5 x 22.9 cm.

Plate 20  Robert Adam (1728–92) detail from Sketch of a passage for Her Grace the Duchess of Bolton, to direct Mr Middleton in the disposition of the papers, pen and ink with watercolour, c.1770.

Plate 21  Round drawing room, Moccas Court, Herefordshire, hung c.1790 with arabesque panels, over-doors and rose borders, block printed, French, attributed to Réveillon, interspersed with painted pilasters.

Plate 22  Robert Adam (1728–92), detail of design for a pilaster for Moccas Court, c.1781, pencil, pen and ink with watercolour.

Plate 23  Ballroom, Frogner Manor, Oslo, decorated c.1792 with arabesques, pilasters and imitation moiré panels with floral borders, block printed, English, with frame marks datable to 1793, and painted additions.

Plate 24  Palladian Room, Clandon Park, Surrey, hung after 1778, with arabesque wallpaper, Les Deux Pigeons, colour print from wood blocks with flock and mica, French, attributed to Réveillon. Rehung in the same room under the direction of John Fowler during the winter of 1968–69. Author’s photo, 2007.

Plate 25  Fragment of wallpaper, hung after 1775, painted, Chinese (originally from the Octagon Room, Winnington Hall, Cheshire).

6 ‘Our modern paper hangings’ In search of the fashionable and the new

The central contention of this chapter is that the later eighteenth century was characterised by the desire to foreground the fashionable and the new. As Vickery has noted, the term ‘fashionable’ could be applied both to a loose conformity to prevailing modes and the more exact possession of the latest model of the season.1 By the 1770s, the fact that wallpaper was a new invention, offering a cheaper copy of more expensive wall finishes, was no longer sufficient to ensure demand; rather it needed to rework contemporary trends in design both to maintain its place and to stimulate growth. In this chapter, I identify the key elements of different styles which were adapted commercially in wallpaper examining emerging styles such as Neo-classicism, particularly as manifested in Adam interiors, as well as the taste for French designs and the Picturesque. In so doing, I challenge earlier narratives of the English wallpaper trade in the last quarter of the century as one of an industry under threat, a narrative put forward by Entwisle. He argued that early paperhanging makers’ influence was waning, and attributed this to two factors: first, the government’s decision in 1773 to allow the import of foreign papers, and second, the growth in the role of the paper hanger and housepainter, resulting in ‘the partial eclipse of the English maker’.2 However, I argue that it was less the import of foreign papers than continental influences manifested in other ways that were significant. Following Edwards, who has argued that the taste for French furnishings in cabinet-making was met in a number of direct and indirect ways, for example through imports evading duty, through the use of continental products as models and through the employment of immigrant labour, I show that these trends were evident in the wallpaper trade. I also argue that English paper hanging makers and cabinet makers succeeded in maintaining their involvement in the trade, not only by taking up tastes for new styles, but by developing new products. The chapter therefore considers different types of decoration associated with continental taste: the print room; wallpapers conveying a taste for metallic and stone finishes; ‘the compartment’ or panelled scheme and finally taste for the arabesque. One key emerging style, Neo-classicism, has been extensively studied in relation to other designed objects, notably ceramics. It has been argued that for Wedgwood, the appeal of classical prototypes was their ability to fuse modernity with classicism, thereby permitting both the middle and upper classes to accept what Adrian Forty had called ‘the march of progress’.3 Did classical prototypes provide similar opportunities in wallpapers? One example is Chippendale’s firm, who did not print wallpapers themselves but did design them on at least one occasion. In September 1776 they charged £3.3s.0d. for ‘Designing and making a Drawing at Large with the proper Colours for the paper Maker’ for the Gallery at Harewood House in Yorkshire, a

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 133 task which may have been carried out by Thomas Chippendale Junior. This scheme comprised 41 pieces ‘of the Antique Ornament with Palms & c. on a fine paper with a pink Ground – The pattern cut on purpose and printed in various Colours’ at a cost of 30 shillings per piece, totalling £61.10s.0d., and three pieces of an accompanying border, again printed from bespoke blocks, costing a further £4.10s.0d. The cost and the need for a large scale coloured drawing to ensure successful manufacture implies that Neo-classicism’s insistence on stylistic unity required bespoke wallpapers.4 Neo-classical examples also provided models for new kinds of wall decorations which were not bespoke and which were taken up by commercial manufacturers, especially, as will be discussed below, in France. A fusion between classical sources and modern forms of decoration was also seen in the interiors of architects such as Adam. Although wallpapers were hung in his interiors, there is no evidence that Adam, unlike Chippendale, designed paper himself. However, his panelled decorations divided by pilasters and patterned with arabesque ornament did influence the fashion for French papers in this style hung in Britain, as will be discussed below. Related to the arabesque is Adam’s much debated ‘invention’ of the Etruscan style. This consisted of a much smaller number of ornaments than the arabesque, arranged in a more open composition as medallions suspended from arabesque niches, painted in a characteristic palette of terracotta and black on a sky-blue ground. It is this palette which appears to have been taken up in wallpapers, combining classicism and modernity. It was not just the re-invention of antique models which impacted on wallpapers at the end of the century, but also a taste for a lighter palette, in particular coloured or ‘tinted’ grounds. This was a practice with which the paper trade was already familiar, since in the late 1750s and 1760s it had been taken up by consumers such as Lady Luxborough who used a pale yellow ground for her papier mâché ornaments at Barrels, discussed in Chapter 5. The use of varied colours in different rooms was also noted as early as 1756 by the painter and diarist Joseph Farington (1747–1821) who attended the opening reception at Norfolk House and observed that ‘every room was furnish’d with a different colour, which used to be reckon’d absurd’.5 These concerns with colour and decorative effects employed a range of media (such as stucco, coloured tints and gilding) to achieve the effect of ‘movement’. As Julius Bryant has highlighted, ‘movement’, i.e. a love of contrasts in light, shade and shape, sought to apply the aesthetic concepts of the Picturesque from painting and landscape gardening to architecture.6 Although the Picturesque taste is a slippery term which could include scenery deemed wild and ‘Sublime’, its emphasis on the appreciation of the English landscape, and its associations with informality, are trends to which naturalistic patterns are closely related, as I argue below. Just as the Chinese papers discussed in Chapter 3 reflected European taste for the Chinese-style garden, so too the desire for variety and the naturalistic arrangements of plants are all aspects of the Picturesque. At the same time as the desire for varied treatments opened up opportunities for wallpaper, it also focused attention on the material’s problematic relationship with the high arts. Focusing on France, David Irwin has argued that the very success of manufacturers and retailers of papier peints in offering designs inspired by Neo-classicism presented a threat to the high arts, since wallpaper’s increasing popularity, ‘it was felt, supplanted the architect’s role as interior designer and that of the painter as a muralist’.7 This view in part reflected the employment of artists as designers for leading French firms; however, it also highlights a wider point, the way in which the maturing industry in Britain was challenging existing designers for the control of wall decoration.

134  ‘Our modern paper hangings’

The print room Another apparently classical model was the print room. Print rooms schemes consisted of prints pasted on the wall with decorative borders and ornaments. As long ago as 1948 Margaret Jourdain claimed the fashion had its origins in France, citing a letter from Mademoiselle Aissé in Paris in 1726 describing the ‘new passion for cutting up coloured engravings’ and pasting them onto sheets of pasteboards to be varnished and made up into screens and wall hangings. She attributed the introduction of the fashion in Britain to the Earl of Cardigan, quoting Walpole’s 1753 description of his bed chamber at Strawberry Hill as ‘hung with yellow paper and prints, framed in a new manner, invented by Lord Cardigan; that is; with black and white borders printed’.8 As argued in Chapter 3 it could also be composed of India pictures and prints. It was not just architects who were involved in disseminating taste for classical schemes, print sellers also played a role and it seems more likely that this fashion had its origins in the commercial world of London print sellers, a world which was already well aware of the popularity of wallpapers. Indeed, Stephen Calloway has pointed out that the vast majority of borders and other ornamental elements for print rooms supplied between the 1740s–60s were the work of a small group of London engravers, including François Vivares (1709–80) and Thomas Major (1720–99), both of whom had links with France.9 Print sellers such as Robert Sayer (1725–93), who took over Overton’s, certainly highlighted the possibilities of their stock for decorating the wall. Sayer ran a supply network encompassing domestic and export markets from premises on London’s Fleet Street. In his 1766 ‘New and Enlarged catalogue’ Sayer described how his sets of ‘fine prints’ could be used to form collections in the ‘cabinets of the curious’, to make furniture ‘elegant and genteel’ when framed and glazed or to ‘be fitted up in a cheaper manner, to ornament rooms, staircases & c. with curious borders representing frames, a fashion much in use, and produces a very agreeable effect’.10 Sayer’s and Bennett’s 1775 catalogue also advertised trophies, borders, festoons, vases and drops amongst the ‘Decorations for Print Rooms’ which the firm claimed were ‘elegantly engraved on upwards of Eight-hundred Copper Plates, containing every ornament necessary for fitting up print rooms’.11 This led Christopher Gilbert to speculate that Chippendale may have obtained the elements used for a print room at Mersham-LeHatch from Sayer’s print-shop, an elaborate scheme which included prints of busts, masks, vases and baskets, with borders and sheets of decorative motifs to tie the scheme together.12 Another name associated with the supply of print rooms is John Baptist Jackson, discussed in Chapter 5. Walpole used his prints at Strawberry, hanging the little parlour with stone-coloured Gothic paper onto which Jackson’s prints after Old Masters were pasted (Figure 6.1). The tension between products which reproduced such imagery mechanically and the ‘high art’ painted works which they threatened to usurp is highlighted by the comments Walpole made in a letter to his friend Horace Mann, declaring that ‘I could never endure [the prints] while they pretended, infamous as they are, to be after Titian, & c’. However, Walpole evidently had a change of heart when he pasted the prints onto the wall, declaring that: ‘when I gave them this air of barbarous bas-reliefs, they succeeded to a miracle’.13 This points to the ambiguous nature of such printed schemes, that evoked carved reliefs and even their narrative effects, but only by denying their precise association with painted works.

Figure 6.1  John Baptist Jackson (c.1700–after 1773), landscape panel ‘After Marco Ricci’, 1744, colour woodcut, English.

Figure 6.2  Outer hall, Newtimber Place, Sussex, decorated c.1796 with painted reproductions of enlarged images from Sir William Hamilton, Collection of Engravings from Ancient Vases, attributed to Biagio Rebecca or John Francis Rignaud, photographed for Country Life in 1916.

136  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ It was not just print sellers who paid close attention to the print room’s development, but also architects, notably Henry Holland (1745–1806).14 In 1796 the architect and designer Charles Heathcote Tatham (1772–1842) wrote from Italy to Holland, his employer, on whose behalf he was collecting and drawing fragments of antique decoration and ornament.15 Tatham had evidently visited a ‘cabinet’ in Naples decorated by Wilhelm Tischbein (1751–1829), the editor of Sir William Hamilton’s Collection of Engravings from Ancient Vases. Tatham describes to Holland what he calls ‘this new and tasty method of fitting up rooms’: Referring again to internal decorations, I had almost forgot a modern invention set on foot by a Man at Naples of the name of Tischbein, who has published certain prints, bordures, hangings and such like, in the Etruscan style, precisely copied from Sir William Hamilton’s Vases and adapted to small Rooms and Cabinets, he has himself fitted up a room as a specimen with which I was so much pleased, that I procured specimens of the ornaments with their prices, you can scarce imagine how successful and new such ornaments appear - they are used in the way or our modern paper hangings, & are suited as well to the walls of a room as to the whole furniture throughout [. . .] the bordures are for panelling etc, (as I have sent you a scrap) and the figures are destined for the centre of the pannells in a wide field of dark colour.16 For Tatham then ‘our modern paper hangings’ provided the model for this scheme, allowing Tischbein to exploit the commercial appeal of the prints as wall decorations. Tischbein had effectively set up a showroom (in fact a cabinet constructed for the Imperial Ambassador) to model his scheme. This appears to have used borders to panel out the room, which were then inset with prints.17 Tatham’s ‘ornaments’ also had a clear provenance, in Sir William Hamilton’s volumes of prints in the Etruscan style. These volumes, as Viccy Coltman notes, provided craftsmen with models which carried not only the prestige of the collector, but also provided patterns for imitation and a (fabricated) theoretical framework for transforming the designs into novel products.18 The outer hall at Newtimber Place, Sussex, decorated c.1796 with painted panels taken from Hamilton’s volumes, echoes on a different scale Tischbein’s model, not only in the wall decorations, but also the wool canvas upholstery of the seat furniture (Figure 6.2), evidencing that this model was taken up in furniture and decoration as well as in ceramics and metalwork.19

French products, English names Another style gaining ground by the 1780s was the appetite for all things French, an appetite embodied in the decoration of Carlton House on Pall Mall from 1783 onwards, for the Prince of Wales, later George IV (1762–1830), led by a team of French decorators under Holland. Horace Walpole visited in 1785 and reported that: You cannot call it magnificent; it is the taste and propriety that strike. Every ornament is at a proper distance, and not too large, but all delicate and new, with more freedom and variety than Greek ornaments; and, though probably borrowed from the Hotel de Condé, and other new Palaces, not one is not rather classic than French. This style is then seen as ‘borrowed’ from the hotels of Paris. Walpole highlighted its ‘delicate and new’ effects, perhaps a reference to the extensive use of white and gold

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 137 on the plaster and woodwork. Whereas some interiors at Carlton House were characterised by the severity of classicism, others manifested ‘freedom and variety’ in the naturalistic ornaments.20 That English manufacturing was fearful of the effects of French superiority in the design of luxury goods was nothing new. These worries manifested themselves in the Anti-Gallican Association and other protectionist measures and were demonstrated in rhetoric around decorative components such as papier mâché, discussed in Chapter 5. In furniture, this superiority was closely linked to the mythology that credited the French both with a superior sense of ‘tasteful embellishment, and graceful living’, and identified the nation as ‘unrivalled practitioners of the art of politeness.’21 Are similar concerns at work in wallpaper? In fact for much of the century it was English wallpapers that were sought after on the continent, not the other way around. ‘English papers’ are singled out in lists of tapisserie retailed in Paris and elsewhere from c.1750–80.22 Indeed, Jean- Baptiste Réveillon (1725–1811), who was to become the leading Parisian manufacturer, began his career as an importer and retailer of English goods.23 In the 1760s, Madame de Genlis reported the spread of Anglophile taste among Frenchwomen, bracketing together dress and wallpaper, robes à l’Anglaise and English wallpapers. The latter was characterised as challenging even tapestry, and identified by colour: ‘They even relegate to storage their magnificent Gobelins Tapestries to put English blue paper in their place’, perhaps a reference to flock.24 Stripes were also popular; for example, in the 1770s, the Château of the Bishop of Dax at St Pandelon was being decorated with printed floral papers arranged in vertical bands, some made by an Irish man, Edward Duras (b.1735), who set up a wallpaper manufactory in Bordeaux in 1772, others possibly English papers supplied by him.25 However, by the 1780s there had been a shift as a result of the papiers peints trade becoming well established in France. Christine Velut’s studies of the industry have argued that it was pre-eminent among the array of consumer goods that introduced art into the domestic interior; she also points out that, as in England, it was seen as an aspect of domestic material culture which was not just about demonstrating emulation, but also propriety and what she calls ‘the conventions prescribed by membership of a particular social group’.26 One example of this growth is the firm of Arthur et Grenard, later Arthur et Robert (1789–94), whose successors, Robert et Cie, were employing four hundred workers in Paris by 1795.27 The firm was founded by an English watchmaker, Arthur, in around 1772 in association with the Parisian René Grenard. Although less familiar a name than Réveillon, its products were equal in quality and certainly exceeded it in quantity.28 French manufacturers also made efforts to reproduce English papers’ effects. That flocks were sought after is supported by French manufacturers’ rhetoric, for example, the 1756 trade card for Didier Aubert, a merchant and engraver on the Rue St Jacques in Paris, claimed that he had discovered the ‘true methods of making velvet [i.e. flock] paper or English papers in the style of Damask & Utrecht velvet, in one or many colours’.29 They took advantage of the hiatus in imports resulting from the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) to consolidate their businesses, including bringing workmen over from England and making duty payable on imported papers once the war had ended.30 By 1768 a London correspondent who styled himself a ‘Chip of the Old Block’ warned that: ‘the French have almost everything requisite in the manufactory, such as mens labour, colours [ . . . ] [at] less than half of their cost here’ and cited the example of one pattern-drawer ‘of great eminence’ who had already departed for Lyons, where, it was claimed, he would ‘in a short time

138  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ rival this country with paper-hangings made in France’.31 The French industry rapidly gathered pace, perhaps encouraged by the American War of Independence (1778–83), which restricted British exports, and by 1789 there were forty-eight wallpaper manufacturers in Paris, seemingly eclipsing the numbers manufacturing in London.32 In 1773 taxation was extended to imported paper hangings, to be raised again in 1787. Dagnall maintains these moves were a response to worries about foreign competition, particularly the growth of the industry in France.33 However, this growth was not all one-sided, since continental manufacturers also formed partnerships with English makers. One example of partnerships was the Eckhardts. Anthony George (active 1771–98) and his brother Frederick were originally from Holland. By 1786 the brothers were in partnership with Thomas Woodmason in a manufactory on the former site of the Chelsea porcelain works in London, where Woodmason advertised that he had completed new patterns ‘under the Inspection of Messrs Eckhardt’.34 It is difficult to assess whether Woodmason or the Eckhardts stood to gain most from the association, since, as noted in Chapter 4, Woodmason’s name was already linked with plain papers, and by the late 1780s their products were sufficiently well known from Bath to Paris to be advertised simply as ‘Woodmason’s paper’.35 In 1789 Lord Palmerston hung Mason’s papers at Broadlands, and in 1787–89 they were ordered by Elizabeth Montagu, suggesting they were well established in the minds of consumers.36

Metallic finishes Eckhardts were, however, associated with a number of innovations in finish, firstly metallic papers, something for which English manufacturers were not generally well known. Joseph Beckmann recorded that by 1797 paper hangings ‘ornamented with a substance that has the glittering brightness of gold and silver’ were amongst the types of paper hangings admired for their beautiful appearance and moderate price, and it is this type of effect which Eckhardts sought to provide.37 The Eckhardt brothers may have been related to the Mr Eccard who was noted as making paper-hangings of his ‘particular invention [. . .] which appear as if worked through with gold and silver’ in The Hague in 1768. These skills are reflected in the firm’s ‘Patent Silver Damask varnished Linen, and Paper’ presumably related to a patent received by Francis Eckhardt in 1793 to print linen and cotton in imitation of ‘damask, lace and other silk stuffs, for hangings and other furniture for rooms’.38 Eckhardts claimed that the material’s production demanded ‘great Labour, Perseverance, and Expence’, and it was evidently a lengthy process since the hanging was first brushed with size, before printing with gold size, onto which ‘real fine silver leaves’ were laid before varnishing.39 As well as stressing these luxurious finishes, Eckhardts emphasised its durability, pointing out that it was varnished to prevent damp, and resistant to the problems of smoke discolouration, since panels had lasted ‘without the least diminution of Their Lustre’, for more than two years.40 In 1794–95 they supplied Sir Thomas Anson (1767–1818) with vast quantities of buff and salmon ground varnished and silvered linen, hung in drawing rooms, bedchambers and dressing rooms at his country house, Shugborough in Staffordshire. Whilst far from being moderate in price, at 5 shillings per yard, the account with Anson does suggest that by the 1790s taste for these finishes was well established amongst the elite, indeed one of the patterns hung at Shugborough was named ‘Princess of Wales’.41 It is possible that this trend reflected the taste for reflective surfaces, silvering and gilding seen in the early schemes at Brighton Pavilion.42

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 139

Hanging ‘in the French manner’: the compartment By the 1790s it was not only metallic finishes that reflected continental taste, but another innovation in wallpaper products, the use of borders and stiles. Stiles, or styles, were wide borders which were used to create a panelled effect often described as a ‘compartment’ or hanging ‘in the French manner’. In marketing, Eckhardts emphasised such schemes’ flexibility, claiming that ‘by painting the Stiles a different Colour’, or ‘changing the Pannels’ the consumer could be reassured that the scheme ‘will appear as a total new Room’. According to Eckhardts there were other advantages too, since: Agreeable to the present Taste of Decorations, being adjusted chiefly in Pannels, the most costly of their Articles, if at any Time soiled, either by Accident, Smoke of London, or other Situation, can be taken down, cleaned, and replaced, with the Brilliancy of the first Day, at a very trifling Expence.43 The outlay on costly arabesque panels (of which more later) could then be offset by these renovations, something it was far more difficult to do with repeating patterns pasted directly onto the wall. Woodmason’s reputation for supplying plain papers may therefore be crucial here, in providing an existing product (and clientele) who could take up this new taste much more cheaply by simply adding borders and stiles to a plain papered scheme. It may also be related to Entwistle’s claim for the growing role of paper hangers; in May 1796 journeymen paper hangers were proposing to charge for hanging borders under a certain price, work for which they had previously not made a charge, suggesting that borders were being more extensively used.44 The wallpapers supplied by leading cabinet-makers suggest a similar trend in the use of compartments to decorate the drawing room. For example Chippendale supplied Lady Elizabeth Heathcote (d.1813) with ‘12 pieces of blue Sattin Wreath and pillar paper’ (at 12 shillings per piece) and 2½ pieces of ‘Yellow paper for the Stiles’ (at 8 shillings per piece) for the front drawing room of her house in Brook Street in 1800 while Elliotts decorated the drawing room at Langleys, Essex, in 1797–98 for William Tufnell with a yellow satin wallpaper which was ‘panelled’ with 380 feet of ‘gilded molding’.45 Certain English firms also capitalised on demand for French papers in Britain by importing French products, notably Robson & Hale, and also Middleton. The firms in this field, like Woodmason, were generally already known for their skills in handling colour. Accordingly by 1789 Robson & Hale styled themselves not only paper hanging manufacturers but also painters in watercolours, and enjoyed the patronage of the Prince of Wales, and other members of the royal family. Their advertisements of that year are the first reference I have found to the direct importation of French papers which, it was claimed, came ‘from the principal manufacturers in Paris’.46 John Middleton’s (active c.1789–1810) entry to the trade was rather different, but again he had associations with the supply of colour. Middleton established ‘A new warehouse for Paper Hangings English and French’ at 81 St Martin’s Lane in 1789. Middleton was an established colour-man who reminded his potential customers for paper hangings that he had for many years: Served artists with their cloths, oils, colours & c and having entered into the manufactory of such colours as are used by the Paper Stainers, appropriates the first floor of his house, immediately over the colour-shop, to the sale of Paper

140  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ Hangings; where he has laid in a large and general assortment of the newest patterns, from the principal makers in London, and has ordered an assortment from Paris, patterns of which may now be seen. The whole making a large and complete stock of Papers from the cheapest up to the most superbly elegant; all which will be sold at the Maker’s Prices and proper persons provided for hanging them in the newest and most elegant manner.47 By the mid-1790s, Middleton could afford to commission a portrait of himself and five members of his family, thought to show the first-floor drawing room above his premises which may have functioned as a showroom (Plate 18). Eleanor John has pointed out that in this portrait the representation of the interior has what she terms ‘a realism and specificity quite different from the treatment of interiors in conversation pieces of the first half of the eighteenth century’. She argues that it not only documents the tastes of the middling level of society (for example in the choice of good quality and fairly fashionable items of furniture), but also signals the attention that was being paid to the decoration of the home by the 1790s.48 The interior presents not only an effect of spaciousness and light, as John points out, but also, I argue, gives prominence to Middleton’s business as a colour-man and supplier of paper hangings, an effect reinforced by the book to which Middleton points, which may be a colour sample book. The space was also depicted with largely clear walls, giving prominence to the plain verditer paper, hung with a single landscape by J.C. Ibbotson, a client of Middleton’s. The plain walls contrasted with the boldly patterned border reflected Middleton’s claim that ‘rich borders form an elegant neatness’ and served as a ‘good relief’ to pictures, effects modelled in the portrait.49 In this image then, not only is Middleton’s commercial life aligned with that of polite society but he is seen as both a supplier and consumer of the fine art of painting as well as the trade in wallpaper. The border, which may be an example of Middleton’s imported French stock, raises a further question about how the image positions Middleton in relation to contemporary art and design. Middleton, like Robson & Hale, sold French papers alongside English papers, indeed it appears there was competition among firms to be the first to reach London with a new batch of patterns from Paris. Later in 1789 Middleton announced the arrival of new stock on board The Speedwell, which he described as ‘the productions of the principal makers in Paris, some of which are to be hung in the English manner, others in panels and compartments, in that style in which the French so much excel, designs of which may be seen’.50 It is perhaps this stress on the French products he sold which enabled Middleton to straddle the fine and mechanical arts. These new products were seemingly desirable for both their functional and aesthetic effects and were used in what were effectively layered schemes. Vertical stiles concealed the joins in the paper, as well as dividing up the wall, while borders marked out the panels, an effect reinforced by a frieze which often finished the scheme at cornice height, again concealing edges as well as unifying the room visually (Plate 19). These schemes demanded different skills to matching a repeating pattern, since hangers needed to ensure that vertical lines were true. Accordingly at Mr Lecoq’s house on Great Marlborough Street in 1790 the plain paper was given two coats of pink, before the hanger spent four days ‘striking lines’ and putting up borders.51 London manufacturers also began to produce their own imitations, such as Turner’s, paper hanging manufacturers on Cornhill, who by June, 1790, advertised that they could fit

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 141 up drawing rooms in the new and much-admired style with ‘pannles, & C. producing the effect of rich ornamental painting’.52 Drawing rooms were a site where such compartments seem to have been especially popular. By 1790 Woodmason’s products were advertised as suitable for drawing rooms fitted up in panels, ‘richly ornamented, in a superior and approved style’ of which specimens could be viewed at Charles Terry’s on Fleet Street.53 A record of work at London houses by an unknown paper hangings supplier from 1789 to 1790 reveals that in the drawing room satin (i.e. imitating moiré) or stripe wallpapers were a popular choice combined with broad and narrow borders.54 For example, at Humphrey Minchin’s house on Great George Street two drawing rooms were decorated in 1790: orange tabby (imitating silk) was hung in one room with (cleaned) gilded mouldings, and green water tabby with an orange border in the other, both with plain papered dadoes. Two men then spent four and a half days ‘putting up pilasters’ (112 yards) and ‘Ornamenting the dadoes’ with 4 feet of ‘pannell’ at a cost of £1.16s.0d. As with Chinese paper, hanging such schemes was evidently a specialist task: Mr Lewis brought a man from London to Putney to hang his drawing room with a water tabby, orange borders and 43 yards of pilasters at a total cost of £8.11s.6d.55 The reference to pilasters, wide vertical bands of architectural ornament, and to colour (orange) may also reflect the palette associated with Adam’s Etruscan style, which was adapted to wallpapers. Indeed, references to ‘Adam’ borders suggest his architectural style was embedded in clients’ minds, such as that hung on an olive ground paper in a secondfloor room at Miss Robinson’s house on Parliament Street in 1789.56 The emphasis on the drawing room’s decoration also raises a number of issues about how it accommodated the needs of differing users and an increased emphasis on sociability. On the one hand there is the idea that the drawing room’s decoration should eclipse that of other spaces, since, as Eileen Harris noted in relation to Adam’s drawing room at Syon House, Middlesex, it was ranked highest in a ‘properly ordered’ apartment, and was expected to be the most spectacular room, exceeding the show of the vestibule.57 However, this does not mean that its decoration was necessarily more feminised; indeed, Colin Cunningham cited Adam’s description of the drawing room at Syon, as ‘finished in a style to afford great variety and amusement; and is, for this reason, an admirable room for the reception of company before dinner, or for the ladies to retire to after it’, that is a space where genders mixed and one which was not just a site for female practices associated with sociability.58

Wallpapers imitating stone Another innovation was the taste for wallpapers imitating stone. Beckmann described paper hangings ‘which imitate so exactly every variety of marble, porphyry, and other species of stones, that when the walls of an apartment are neatly covered with them, the best connoisseur may not without close examination be able to discover the deception.’59 These effects can be examined in Adam’s ‘Sketch of a passage for Her Grace the Duchess of Bolton, to direct Mr Middleton in the disposition of the papers’ of c.1770 (Plate 20). Adam was working at Bolton House throughout the 1770s, and the vaulted passage shown in the sketch linked the new hall with the main stair. Eileen Harris has noted that variety and movement were achieved by dividing the passage into four compartments of different sizes and shapes, an effect the papers reinforced.60 The walls

142  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ were hung with marbled paper in two colourways with contrasting borders, green for the horizontal base panels and a dull red (possibly orange) for the vertical panels in three of the four bays, stone colour borders being shown in the apsidal end bay. Middleton sold ‘curious running patterns’ in imitation of the ‘choicest’ wood and ‘rare’ stone such as marbles and granites, which he claimed formed an ‘elegant neatness’ when surrounded by ‘rich’ borders. In this scheme the papers imitating marble are separated by pilasters decorated with grotesques and vaults with trompe l’oeil bas reliefs. It was perhaps the complicated nature of this scheme that necessitated the detailed sketch, enabling Adam to ensure his design was carried out, although it was the client, the Duchess of Bolton, who was evidently to use it on site and the drawing has been folded up as if placed in a pocket. However, as with Chinese wallpaper not every client wanted (or could afford) to employ Middleton’s men to execute the hang, however complicated it might be; at Clytha Castle in 1792 the wallpaper supplied by Middleton to William Jones the Elder (d.1805) at a cost of £38.14s.9d. was put up by a local tradesman (Mr Higham) with the help of a joiner (William Field).61

Arabesque schemes Middleton was not only known for his borders and marbled papers. His ‘curious running patterns’ were also available in the ‘Arabesque and Etruscan styles’ intended ‘to be hung in compartments formed by Pannles, Pillasters and Antique Figures, with curious Landscapes, and other devices for Debus de portes [over-doors], after the Vatican Ornaments by Raphael’.62 It is just possible that some of the ceiling decorations in the Bolton House passage were supplied by Middleton too, since he advertised ‘rich’ decorations for ceilings, imitating ‘highly finished paintings, with cornices like carved wood in Griesaille’.63 Antiquity offered a distinct model for wall decoration: the grotesque. The grotesque was derived from engravings of decorations of palaces and other dwellings excavated around Rome at the end of the fifteenth century. These were in turn transformed into Renaissance grotesque decorations, the best known of these being Raphael’s pilaster decorations in the Vatican, as Middleton described: The French, who in late years have excelled every other nation in their paper decorations of rooms, ceiling, and galleries, like Raphael in his unrivalled ornament of the Vatican, select & combine the choicest productions of ancient art, as exhibited in the Herculaneum, Pompeii, the Baths of Titus, of Livia, The Villa Adriana, & c & c. thereby forming such arabesque, grotesque, and etruscan ornaments of antique Cameas, Vases and Figures, in panels, pilasters and various other arrangements, as strike the eye by compositions classical, and truly sublime. These are imported as soon as published- and with great assortment of English paper hangings sold at Middleton’s warehouse, no 91, St Martin’s Lane.64 This also reflects shifts in attitudes to the grotesque. Excavations, and the subsequent removal, of painted grotesques from the villas at Herculaneum and Pompeii from the late 1740s provided ready models for paper panels. Coltman discusses the way that wall decorations excavated at these sites were sawn apart to produce multiple paintings on plaster, which were framed as what she terms ‘individual master-pieces’.65 These sections of excavated painted wall were already two dimensional, vertical and

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 143 rectangular in form, designed for use on the wall and thus easily applicable to printing by trades such as wallpaper manufacturers. It was not only grotesque decorations, but the arabesque, that proved adaptable to papers. The arabesque was composed of decorative motifs, often contained within lunettes, medallions or plaques, and vases or anthemions arranged on a vertical axis, surrounded by symmetrical patterns of scrollwork and bouquets of flowers and branches issuing from other elements.66 French manufacturers became especially well known for their arabesque designs, production of which peaked between 1789 and 1792. Made up of interchangeable components, arabesques could be adapted to hang in awkward shaped circular and octagonal rooms as well as on the stair. In 1788 La magasin des modes nouvelles, françaises et anglaises reported that: ‘For some time now, there has been nothing but papers with arabesque designs which in Paris serve as wall hangings for salons’, going on to point out that they were also used to ‘decorate bedrooms, dining rooms, antechambers, studies and offices, & c’.67 However, in language reminiscent of the criticism of the cost of Chinese wallpaper, in 1802 Madame de Genlis reported that taste for luxurious arabesque wallpapers was a ‘ruinous luxury’, as costly as Gobelins tapestries.68 Although arabesque schemes have been extensively studied, particularly in France, less attention has been paid to the reasons behind their choice in Britain. In part this is because they are recorded in small numbers, and the period of their popularity from the late 1780s to the mid-1790s was comparatively short. However, they do shed light on the balance of control between architects, tradesmen and their clients at the end of the century and on the one hand between the desire for formality associated with Neoclassicism, and on the other the more naturalistic effects embodied in the Picturesque movement. A case in point is the decoration of the circular drawing room at Moccas Court in Herefordshire (Plate 21). Situated on this brick house’s central axis, the room was created as part of a new house for Sir George Cornewall and his wife, the heiress Catherine Cornewall (b.1752) who married in 1771. Although Adam prepared designs for the house, it was seemingly built under the supervision of Anthony Keck, (1726–97) the designer of Penrice Castle. Adam’s designs for the room included decorations for the ceiling, walls and fittings, and included tempting alternative options for borders, over-doors and the design of the over-mantel mirror. However, his wall decoration composed of panels and pilasters decorated with painted arabesques was not executed (Plate 22).69 Instead, a scheme composed of paper was hung in c.1790: nine printed arabesque panels with rose borders, four grotesque pilasters, two over-doors and an over-mantel lunette. It has always been assumed that Adam’s scheme for the walls was rejected either on the grounds of cost, or due to the difficulties of getting craftsmen to Moccas. However, the scheme was still an expensive option, since Réveillon manufactured the rose border, created around 1789, and probably the panels and other elements too. The papers were, however, less expensive than a painted scheme and probably relate to a payment of £50 made in September 1790 to John Sherringham (fl.1786–1802), a decorator in ornamental paper hangings of Great Marlborough Street, Chelsea, who had links with France.70 This cost compares with Elliott’s supply of six panels by Réveillon for the drawing room at Longford Hall, Shropshire in 1793 at £39.3s.0d.71 Bernard Jacqué and Geeert Wisse have also suggested that the panels may have been part of Sherringham’s purchase of liquidated stock from Réveillon as a result of the French Revolution. This is supported by the fact that an unequal number of panels were supplied, needing substantial

144  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ modifications to fit the circular room with its many narrow panels between the door and window openings.72 Even so, the paper hangers were not quite able to disguise the scheme’s lack of symmetry. Some four panels have also been cut and collaged to customise elements in the design to accommodate the room’s height.73 A more significant factor in the choice of arabesque papers was the matter of control of decoration between architect, tradesman and client. Adam himself was not above using arabesque papers; he suggested a Réveillon paper for the dining room at Archerfield, East Lothian, in 1790 which was described as papered ‘with that elegant French paper introduced into this country a little after the year 1790’.74 Cornewall had been a client of Isherwood’s and prior to that Bromwich’s since 1777, so was evidently familiar with the decorative possibilities of wallpapers when it came to decorating Moccas.75 Papers also allowed Adam’s concept of a panelled scheme based on the arabesque to be retained, giving unity to the Moccas drawing room. However, what the papered scheme also permitted was a shift in the balance between Neo-classicism and more naturalistic effects. In the main panels arabesques composed of female allegorical figures and fabulous creatures familiar from Neo-classical ornament (including sphinxes, lions and ram’s heads) are interspersed with bouquets of flowers, scrolling ornament, baskets of fruit, foliage and birds, printed in warm and vivid colours on what was once a blue ground. At the base of the panels and above the doorframes architectural ornament encloses plaques of classical nymphs printed in a terracotta and black palette reminiscent of Etruscan ornament, which contrast with the arabesques and rose borders, suggesting a desire to soften what may have originally been conceived as a more austere scheme. As Jacqué has pointed out, such borders of flowers were part of a trend towards the depiction of botanically accurate flowers in interior schemes, including the rose. Jacqué attributes this trend to the ‘twists’ of flowers, cut out and collaged onto a plain background, which were popularised at the French court by Marie-Antoinette in her dining room at The Tuileries in 1789.76 The sense of profusion and informality generated by more naturalistic patterns was reinforced in the furnishings at Moccas which included a set of blue and white painted Hepplewhite chairs and pole screen.77 These may also have been intended to harmonise with the room’s traditional function as a summer sitting room, and to enhance the sense of closeness to the landscape generated by the bow window form which the Picturesque movement favoured. The bow opens onto grassy terraces leading to a dramatic cliff on the Wye, a river that, thanks to William Gilpin’s (1724–1804) western tour of 1775, enjoyed a key place in theories of the Picturesque. Indeed, Cornewall was a close friend of his neighbour Richard Payne Knight, one of the movement’s key supporters.78 Tensions between clients and suppliers over arabesque schemes are also revealed in the papering of another Adam room, the drawing room at Paxton in Berwickshire decorated and furnished by the Chippendale partners for Ninian Home (1732–95) and his wife Penelope between 1789 and 1791 (Figure 6.3). Home had evidently called at the Chippendale workshop in London in January 1789, after which Home wrote to Chippendale explaining his criteria for the work: ‘when I furnish [the drawing room] I wish it to be done in a neat, but not an expensive manner’. However, he was not only concerned about cost, but also about aesthetics, as he asked Chippendale if it was more fashionable to pick the ceiling out in colours. Home’s West Indian interests meant he had spent little time in Britain; not only was he unfamiliar with current fashions, but he also had no picture collection to hang. An arabesque scheme therefore offered both

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 145

Figure 6.3  Drawing room, Paxton House, Berwickshire, showing pilasters and an overdoor, block printed in colours, French, supplied by Chippendale & Haig in 1789, photographed for Country Life in 1993.

an up to the minute fashion and a solution to bare walls. At the start Home was happy to hand over aesthetic decisions to Chippendale, sending dimensions with a plan of the room and writing in July, 1789: ‘I leave you to choose the Paper, as you are a better Judge what is proper for such a Room than I am’.79 Variety was achieved through the hanging of twelve pilasters in four different designs, together with two over-doors, originally framing arabesque panels and borders.80 It is likely, however, that Home employed local hangers as he wrote to Chippendale asking for the paper to be sent ‘as soon as you can’ as he had other paper to be hung. This reflects the economy and restrained taste evident in the room’s fitting out, where, as Cornforth put it, the choice of mahogany, rather than painted chairs, may have reflected an underplayed ‘slightly masculine’ taste offsetting the ‘smart’ French paper. It also, as Judith Goodison has argued more recently, brought colour into the room, complementing both the green seat upholstery, green and scarlet carpet and enhancing Chippendale’s Neo-classical furniture. Although Home had agreed the choice of paper and border once the scheme was hung in September he adopted a resigned tone in a letter to Chippendale: ‘I like it very well, but I do not think the border a very good one, but it is now up and must do.’81 The impossibility of change once the costly scheme was complete then overrode the possibilities of alterations and suggested that Home did, after all, have his own views on appropriate decoration.

146  ‘Our modern paper hangings’

Figure 6.4  Upper hall, Kempshott Park, Surrey, decorated c.1795 with arabesque panels, borders, pilasters and an over-door, block printed in colours, French (Arthur et Robert), photographed before 1930.

Arabesque panels were not just confined to the drawing room, however. They were also hung on the stair, and here I want to suggest that the tradition of architectural decorations in this space continued, outweighing the trend towards naturalism seen at both Moccas and Paxton. One stair scheme originates from Kempshott Park in Hampshire, rented by the Prince of Wales from 1789 as a base when hunting and shooting. In 1795 Holland drew up proposals for ‘tasteful decorations’ to the interior, presumably including the papered arabesque scheme hung in the upper hall above a grained dado (Figure 6.4). Eight panels and twelve pilasters survive.82 The panels are printed in greens and browns on an apricot ground, the work of Arthur et Robert including pairs of ‘panneaux aux lions et aux griffons’ of c.1790 after a design by Joseph-Laurent Malaine (1745–1809), and another design, the ‘panneau au temple’ printed by the same firm’s workshop in 1791.83 Payments for paper at Kempshott are recorded to the Basingstoke cabinet-maker John Ring (d.1795) in May, 1794 including for twelve dozen ‘Flora’ borders, ordered with six pieces of two different designs of wallpaper at between 3–4 shillings per piece, so perhaps not expensive enough to warrant a link to this scheme. Nor are any ‘Flora’ borders visible in images of the scheme in situ, which features Etruscan borders.84 It is more likely, therefore, that the papers were supplied directly from France via Henry Holland or a London firm. Although they reflect the Prince’s interests in French taste, here architectural ornament is more dominant than floral imagery,

Figure 6.5  Attributed to Eckhardts, silvered satin panel painted en grisaille with plaques of Scottish Border landscapes, c.1790s, English.

148  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ since the panels are framed by borders composed of imitation stucco, whilst the two types of pilasters are printed on a dark green ground, one of which consists of medallions enclosing profile heads, giving a more severe archaeological appearance than those schemes which survive at either Moccas or Paxton. Previously both Sherringham and the Eckhardts were associated with the Kempshott papers, and although they have now been shown to be French, more recent research has suggested that the model was also taken up by English firms.85 A set of arabesque panels attributed to Eckhardts adopted the form if not the motifs of the arabesque, featuring imitation drapery, dancers, trumpeting putti and dragon-like creatures arranged around an anthemion motif (Figure 6.5). Described as painted in gouache en grisaille ‘with silvery grey-green satin’, in some vertical panels the rectangular plaques depicted not ‘scenes from ritual and domestic Greek life’ but ‘Scottish Border landscapes and houses’.86 Perhaps this was a deliberate attempt to expand the arabesque’s popularity in Britain, incorporating Picturesque landscapes featuring Scottish domestic architecture where it would be more usual to find classical scenes. There is also evidence that arabesque papers produced in Britain were exported. In 1790 Bent Anker (1749–1805), a Norwegian timber exporter with interests in shipping and ironworks, bought Frogner Manor outside Christiania (present day Oslo) as his country retreat. He set about extending the manor to include a ballroom to house weekly assemblies during the summer, work which was completed by October 1792. The arabesque scheme at Frogner reflects the taste for floral imagery in a space conceived for summertime use, as seen at Moccas. At Frogner this extended to decorating the corners of the room with floral borders framing plain moiré panels (Plate 23). The finding of frame marks and excise stamps has led to an English attribution, an argument strengthened by the inclusion of imagery of the emblems of Great Britain and the Order of the Garter in some of the panels. Anker’s principal trading interests were with Britain, moreover in 1782 he became a member of the Royal Society, so he had strong Anglophile links making an attribution to an English firm employing French artists, such as Sherringham’s, not unreasonable.87 The question of the production of arabesques by English firms is also raised by the redecoration of the saloon on the ground floor at Clandon Park in Surrey. Tapestries were recorded in the room in 1778 but in the 1780s it was rehung with an arabesque paper attributed to Réveillon, Les Deux Pigeons, c.1770–80. This design combined taste for the arabesque with that for a repeating pattern and for flock (Plate 24).88 This may have been more suited to the room than a panelled scheme, since the vast rectangular space with windows on only one wall lent itself to the huge (over 117 cms) dropped repeat which required use of some nineteen lengths. Views out to the garden through the full height windows also enhanced the sense of closeness to the natural world which the pattern reinforced through the depiction of arabesques and birds against a sky blue ground, rather than classical figures and grotesques. The paper also allowed the display of luxurious techniques and surface finishes: it was block printed in distemper and then flocked in approximately seven colours on a spotted (perhaps mica dusted) blue (faded by the late twentieth century to off white) ground and finished with a gilt-wood fillet. This enhanced the contrast between the texture of the flock and the glittering effects of the mica and gilt filet, while the use of harmonious colours and arrangement of the blooms reinforced the naturalistic effects. However, the attribution of this paper to a French manufacturer has proved problematic. As discussed in Chapter 4, English flocks were used extensively on the first

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 149 and second storeys at Clandon in the 1730s and 1740s. This suggests to me that the Onslows may have wished to echo an earlier taste for flocks in this scheme. Direct involvement by the client is supported by Jacqué’s claim that both the enormous quantity involved, and the quality of the manufacture, indicates the wallpaper was produced by Réveillon as a special order linked to the Onslow’s stays in Paris in the 1780s, a method of acquisition that would have enabled both parties to avoid import duties.89 The choice of a French flock would also support manufacturers’ claims that, by the 1770s, they were rivalling the quality of English flock. However, more recently Mary Schoeser has identified the Clandon wallpaper as a reverse copy of the Réveillon design, which may well have been printed in England.90 This argument is reinforced by the survival of a single width of the same reversed design of c.1785 from a house on Glamorgan Street, Brecon.91 It does, however, have a number of significant differences to the Clandon wallpaper: the design is printed in distemper over olive green flock on a cream ground, using rather fewer colours, which created a bolder and less subtle effect. This has led in the past to the Brecon example being categorised as an English wallpaper. However, Jacqué considers the Clandon design is a later version, by Réveillon himself.92 Whatever the attribution, the pattern does evidence the popularity of arabesques as a repeating pattern incorporating the taste for ‘English flocks’, making them suitable even for grand parade rooms such as the Saloon. The impact of arabesque designs can also be seen beyond Europe, in Chinese wallpaper. One example of this taste comes from Winnington Hall in Cheshire, where a new wing was completed in c.1775 for Anne Susannah Warburton (1745–1816) and her husband Richard Pennant (1737–1808), co-heirs to the Penrhyn slate mining interests in North Wales. Attributed to Samuel Wyatt (1737–1808) this wing culminated in the Octagon Room, probably intended as a drawing room and positioned on the house’s south-west aspect.93 The room’s Neo-classical detailing was prominent in the ceiling, door-cases and chimneypiece. However, the walls were decorated with a Chinese paper hung from the dado to the frieze (Figure 6.6).94 The paper’s central motif was a version of the flowering tree hung with pairs of birdcages, which opened out to form a circle enclosing a scene of a pair of male and female Chinese figures under a parasol. Around these scenes vertical panels were arranged, composed of opposing pairs of birds and leaves, scrolling flowers and a central motif of the parasol, now coloured buff (but presumably once yellow) with vivid green tassels, separated by lengths composed of pairs of leaves alone, perhaps representing bamboo (Plate 25). The arrangement of the vertical panels and pilasters recalls the form of the arabesque, and it is tempting to suggest that the Chinese paper was indebted to this model. Perhaps the arabesque form also made a Chinese wall decoration acceptable in this severely Neo-classical interior, creating a very different mood in the Octagon Room to other spaces in the new wing. Rather than a story of decline, the end of the eighteenth-century presents evidence of innovation in both design and manufacture, in particular through those with continental connections as well as those involved in the trade in high art prints. Many of these innovations reflected wider trends in design: for example print room decorations, as well as papers imitating stone, reflected the impact of Neo-classicism. By contrast, the use of compartment schemes and the arabesque has been seen as pure and authentically French, but, as with Chinese wallpapers, these schemes were modified on site, enabling them to reflect taste for more informal visual effects of the Picturesque in the drawing room in particular. There was then a tension between the taste for lighter colours and naturalistic ornament associated with the Picturesque, and the need to

150  ‘Our modern paper hangings’

Figure 6.6  Chinese wallpaper hung in the Octagon Room, Winnington Hall, Cheshire, after 1775, photographed in 1923.

contain this within the framework of Neo-classicism, a tension reflected in some of the designs discussed in this chapter. Nor is it a matter of simple oppositions between

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 151 the growing role of the architect and the declining role of the tradesman, since many of these schemes show how consumers were demonstrating greater agency and control of decorative schemes.

Notes 1 Amanda Vickery, ‘“Neat and Not Too Showey”: Words and Wallpaper in Regency England’ in Gender, Taste and Material Culture in Britain and North America in the Long Eighteenth Century, ed. John Styles and Amanda Vickery (New Haven, CT and London: Yale Center for British Art/Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2006), 214. 2 E.A. Entwisle, The Book of Wallpaper (Bath: Kingsmead Reprints, 1970), 77. 3 Hilary Young, ‘From the Potteries to St Petersburg: Wedgwood and the Making and Selling of Ceramics’ in The Genius of Wedgwood, ed. Hilary Young (London: V&A Museum, 1995), 13. 4 Anthony Wells-Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), 4 and 45. Judith Goodison, The Life and Work of Thomas Chippendale Junior (London: Philip Wilson, 2017), 94, 139. 5 Quoted in Ian Bristow, ‘The Use of Colour by Adam and his Contemporaries’ in The Later Eighteenth Century Great House: Proceedings of a Conference held at Oxford University Department of Continuing Education (OUDCE) 10–12 January 1997, ed. Malcolm Airs (Oxford: Oxford University Department of Continuing Education, 1997), 153. 6 Julius Bryant, Robert Adam 1728–92: Architect of Genius (London: English Heritage, 1992), 26. 7 David Irwin, Neoclassicism (London: Phaidon, 1997), 244. 8 Margaret Jourdain, ‘Print Rooms’ Country Life (10 September 1948), 524–25. 9 Stephen Calloway, ‘Engraving Schemes’ Country Life (11 April 1991), 102–5. A sheet of ‘Picture Frames for Print Rooms’ by Vivares is illustrated in John Cornforth, Early Georgian Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004), fig. 272. 10 Quoted in Antony Griffiths, ‘A Checklist of Catalogues of British Print Publishers c.1650– 1830’ Print Quarterly 1, no. 1 (1984), 9. 11 Quoted in Tim Clayton, The English Print 1688–1802 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1997), 138. 12 Christopher Gilbert, The Life and Work of Thomas Chippendale (London: Studio Vista, 1978), Vol. 1, 229. 13 Quoted in Anna Chalcroft and Judith Viscari, Strawberry Hill: Horace Walpole’s Gothic Castle (London: Frances Lincoln, 2007), 44–45. 14 Holland’s involvement in schemes using papers may also have included Kempshott Park, discussed later in this chapter, and Mount Clare, Roehampton. 15 Richard Riddell, ‘C.H. Tatham’ Grove Art Online, www.oxfordartonline.com. 16 Viccy Coltman, ‘Sir William Hamilton’s Vase Publications (1766–1776): A Case Study in the Reproduction and Dissemination of Antiquity’ Journal of Design History 14, no.1 (2002), 6. 17 For an example of Tischbein prints hung at Mere Hall, Cheshire, see Coltmann, ‘Sir William Hamilton’s Vase Publications’, fig. 5. 18 Ibid., 5–6. 19 Ibid., 6–7 and fig. 6; Philip M. Johnston, ‘Newtimber Place, Sussex’ Country Life (30 December 1916), 784; for a similar scheme at what is now Clongowes Wood College near Dublin see David Skinner, Wallpaper in Ireland (Tralee: Churchill House Press, 2014), 117–20. 20 Quoted in Charles Saumarez Smith, The Rise of Design: Design and the Domestic Interior in Eighteenth-Century England (London: Pimlico, 2000), 199–200. 21 Mimi Hellman, ‘Furniture, Sociability, and the Work of Leisure in Eighteenth-Century France’ Eighteenth-Century Studies 32, no. 4 (1999), 423. 22 For example on the trade cards of the stationer Antoine Girard, at the Four Corners World, Lyons, and Tardieu, a wallpaper merchant and stationer on the Rue du Tournon in Paris, 3686.1.75.146 and 3686.18.44, Waddesdon Manor trade card collection, www. waddesdonmanor.org.uk.

152  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ 23 Joanna Banham, ‘Artistry for the Bourgeoisie’ Review of the exhibition ‘Arabesques: French Hand Printed Wallpapers’ held at the Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester, Wallpaper History Review (1993/4), 39–40. 24 Quoted in E.A. Entwisle, A Literary History of Wallpaper (London: Batsford, 1960), 32. 25 Anthony Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’ in The Papered Wall: The History, Patterns and Techniques of wallpaper, ed. Lesley Hoskins (London: Thames and Hudson, 2005), 37; Skinner, Wallpaper in Ireland, 87–91. 26 Christine Velut, ‘Between Invention and Production: The Role of Design in the Manufacture of Wallpaper in France and England at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century’, in ‘Disseminating Design: The French Connection’, ed. Katie Scott and Helen Clifford, special issue Journal of Design History 17, no. 1 (2004), 67. 27 Bernard Jacqué, ‘Luxury Perfected: The Ascendancy of French Wallpaper 1770–1870’ in The Papered Wall ed. Hoskins, 59. 28 Bernard Jacqué, ‘Wallpaper in the Royal Apartments at the Tuileries, 1789–1792’ Studies in the Decorative Arts 13, no. 1 (2005/6), 5–6. 29 3686.1.64.121, 1756, Waddesdon Manor trade card collection, www.waddesdonmanor. org.uk. 30 Peter Thornton, Form and Decoration: Innovation in the Decorative Arts, 1470–1870 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1998), 173. 31 Gazette, 26 February, 1768, Burney. 32 Jacqué, ‘Wallpaper in the Royal Apartments’, 5. 33 Harry Dagnall, The Tax on Wallpaper: An Account of the Excise Duty on Stained Paper 1712–1836 (Middlesex, author’s publication, 1990), 7–8. 34 British Evening Post, 24 April 1787, Burney. 35 Bath Chronicle, 5 July 1787; Quoted in Christine Velut, Décors de papier: Production, commerce et usages des papiers peints á Paris, 1750–1820 (Paris: MONUM/Éditions du patrimonie, 2005), 25. 36 See Account Book of a London Paper Stainer, 1789–90, 7 June 1789, ff. 18–19, National Art Library, V&A; Elizabeth Montagu’s account at Hoare’s bank, 1787–89 C. Hoare & Co archive, Customer ledger/folio nos: 25/404–408, 29/300–304, 33/434–437. 37 Johann Beckmann, A History of Inventions and Discoveries (London: 1797, ECCO), Vol. 2, 160. 38 Patent no. 1954, quoted in ‘Wallcoverings’, Clive Edwards, Encyclopaedia of Furnishing Textiles, Floorcoverings and Home Furnishing Practices (London: Lund Humphries, 2007), 237. 39 Quoted in E.A. Entwisle, ‘Eighteenth-Century London Paperstainers: The Eckhardt Brothers of Chelsea’ Connoisseur (American edition) 142 (March 1959), 74. 40 Eckhardts & Co, Royal Patent Manufactory, May 1793, British Museum, Banks Collection, BM, BC 91.12. 41 See Clare Taylor, ‘Eckhardts & Co and the Supply of Wall Decorations for Shugborough’ Georgian Group Journal 19 (2011), 145–50. 42 See Alexandra Loske, Regency Colour and Beyond, 1785–1850 (Brighton: Brighton & Hove Council/The Royal Pavilion, 2013). 43 Eckhardts & Co, Royal Patent Manufactory; Entwisle, Book of Wallpaper, pl. 34. 44 The Observer, 5 May 1796, Proquest Historical Newspapers, The Guardian and Observer Online, www.proquest.umi.com. 45 Christopher Gilbert and Geoffrey Beard, Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (Leeds: Furniture History Society, 1986), 273; Goodison, Thomas Chippendale Junior, 93–94 and 163–64. 46 Trade card for Robson & Hale, after 1790, BM, HC 91.46; World 29 April 29 and 18 August 1789, 18 March 1790, Burney. 47 Diary or Woodfall’s Register, 17 July 1789, Burney. 48 David Dewing, ed., Home and Garden: Paintings and Drawings of English, Middle Class Urban Domestic Spaces 1675–1914 (London: Geffrye Museum, 2003), 42. 49 Diary or Woodfall’s Register, 15 January 1790, Burney. 50 Morning Post & Daily Advertiser, 10 October 1789, Burney. 51 Account Book of a Paper Stainer, 12 November 1790, f.4.

‘Our modern paper hangings’ 153 2 St James’s Chronicle, 15 June 1790, Burney. 5 53 World, 20 May 1790, Burney. 54 Account Book of a Paper Stainer, ff. 6, 59–60, 123. 55 Ibid., 23 February 1790, ff.83–84, and 5 June 1790, f.107. 56 Ibid., 10 November 1789, f. 70. 57 Eileen Harris, The Genius of Robert Adam: His Interiors (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2001), 76. 58 Colin Cunningham, ‘“An Italian House is my Lady”: Some Aspects of the Definition of Women’s Role in the Architecture of Robert Adam’ in Femininity and Masculinity in Eighteenth Century Art and Culture, ed. Gill Perry and Michael Rossington (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1994), 70. 59 Beckmann, A History of Inventions, 161. 60 Eileen Harris, ‘Robert Adam on Park Avenue: The Interiors for Bolton House’ Burlington Magazine 137, no. 1103 (February 1965), 71. 61 Personal accounts of William Jones, June 1792, Clytha Castle accounts 563, D43.211, Gwent Archives. I am grateful to Katie Arber for this reference; see Richard Haslam, ‘Clytha Castle, Gwent I’ Country Life (8 December 1972), 1718–21. 62 Diary or Woodfall’s Register, 15 January 1790, Burney. 63 Diary or Woodfall’s Register, 15 January 1790; Soane Museum Adam Drawings vol. 50/5. 64 Diary or Woodfall’s Register, 11 August 1790, Burney. 65 Viccy Coltman, Fabricating the Antique: Neoclassicism in Britain, 1760–1800 (Chicago, IL and London: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 98. 66 Heather J. McCormick, Hans Ottomeyer and Stefanie Walker, eds., Vasemania: Neoclassical Form and Ornament in Europe (New Haven, CT and London: Published for the Bard Graduate Center in the Decorative Arts, Design and Culture, New York and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, by Yale University Press, 2004), 148. 67 Quoted in Jacqué, ‘Wallpaper in the Royal Apartments’, 9. 68 Quoted in Howard Coutts, ‘Extravagant and Ruinous Luxury’ Wallpaper History Review (1995), 47. 69 ‘Section of a Room for Sir George Cornewall, Bart at Moccas Herefordshire’ c.1775, Adam Drawings Vol. 34, 52, Soane Museum. I am grateful to Stephen Astley for his insights on Moccas; Designs for interiors at Moccas Court, 1781, Moccas papers AL28, Herefordshire Archives; Nicholas Thompson, ‘Moccas Court, Herefordshire-II’ Country Life (25 November 1976), 1554–57, figs 5 and 6. 70 Cornewall’s Account books, 1777–90, J56/IV/2-4, Moccas papers, Herefordshire Archives. 71 John Cornforth and John Fowler, English Decoration in the Eighteenth Century (London: Barrie & Jenkins, 1974), 142; C.C. Oman and J. Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cat. 962 (E.15–20–1916). 72 Bernard Jacqué and Geert Wisse, ‘Les Rêves de la Peinture’ Antique Collector (November 1992), 82–85; Bernard Jacqué, ed., Les Papiers Peint en Arabesques (Paris: Editions de la Martiniere, 1995), 75 and 87, cats IB7 ‘panneaux à l’Eventail’ and ‘panneuax à Vases’ IB9, 148–49. 73 Véronique de Bruignac-La Hougue, ‘Arabesques and Allegories: French Decorative Panels’ in The Papered Wall, ed. Hoskins, fig. 104. 74 Description by T.F. Dibdin in 1838, quoted in John Cornforth, ‘Paxton House, Berwickshire – I’ Country Life (29 April 1993), 83. 75 Cornewall also made payments to Isherwood’s and Bowers in 1789/90, Cornewall’s Account Book /IV/4, Moccas papers. 76 Jacqué, ‘Wallpaper in the Royal Apartments’ 15–16. 77 Russell, Baldwin & Bright Ltd, Sale of Contents Moccas Court, 16 July 1946, A57/4/7, Moccas papers, Herefordshire Archives. 78 Thompson, ‘Moccas Court’, 1556–57. 79 Cornforth, ‘Paxton House’, 83; Goodison, Thomas Chippendale Junior, 93–4, 163–64. 80 See Jacqué, Les Papiers Peint en Arabesques, 87. I am grateful to Fiona Salveson Murrell for information on Paxton. See also Goodison, Thomas Chippendale Junior, 70, 95.

154  ‘Our modern paper hangings’ 1 Goodison, Thomas Chippendale Junior, 167. 8 82 Five associated over-doors in the Saint Louis Art Museum collection may not be part of the original scheme; author’s email correspondence with David Conradsen, 27 February 2017. 83 Jacqué, Les Papiers Peint en Arabesques, 86–87 and cat IB5, 147 & IB10, 149–50; Bernard Jacqué, ‘Found in the USA: French Wallpapers from a Surrey House’ Wallpaper History Review (1993/94), 3–4. 84 John Ring to The Prince of Wales, 1794, Customer Accounts ledger for John Ring, 1792–1800, 8M62/15, Hampshire Record Office. See Christopher Golding, ‘Kempshott Park: A Prince’s Retreat’, 2013. www.kempshottmanor.net. 85 Meyric R. Rogers, ‘The Kempshot House Wallpaper’, Bulletin of the City Art Museum of St. Louis 15, no. 2 (April 1930), 26–31. I am grateful to David Conradsen for this reference and information about the scheme. 86 Sothebys, 19 July 1968, Lot 127a, copy in V&A Furniture Department archive. 87 Lars Roede and Bernard Jacqué, ‘An Arabesque Mystery: the case of Frogner Manor, Oslo’ Wallpaper History Society Review (2011/12), 3–4. 88 Inventory Clandon House May 1778, copy in NT Archives at Polesden Lacey (CLA 26). The paper remained on the wall until the Clandon fire of 2015. 89 Jacqué, Les Papiers Peint, 86. 90 Mary Schoeser, ‘The Octagon Room at Danson: Evidence for a Restoration with Wallpaper’ in New Discoveries, New Research: Papers from the International Wallpaper Conference at the Nordiska Museet, Stockholm, 2007, ed. Elisabet Stavenow-Hidemark (Stockholm: Nordiska Museets Förlag, 2009), 195, note 107. 91 Oman & Hamilton, Wallpapers, 30, note 54, and cat. 117 (E.453–1924); Charles Oman, ‘Old English Flock Papers’ Country Life (10 September 1927), fig. 5. 92 Charles Oman ‘Old Wallpapers in England 4: Later Coloured Papers and Print Rooms’ Old Furniture 4 (1928), 222; Wells-Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’, note 54, 260. 93 Peter de Figueiredo and Julian Treuherz, Cheshire Country Houses (Chichester: Phillimore, 1988), 197–203. 94 Charles Oman, ‘English Chinoiserie Wallpapers’ Country Life (11 February 1933), fig. 2, 150.

Epilogue ‘Pleasing decay’ – the rediscovery of eighteenth-century wallpapers

The century starting with the revival of interest in the Georgian in the 1880s offers particular insights into the reception of eighteenth-century wallpapers. This Epilogue therefore interrogates how wallpaper made the leap to collected object in both the home and in the museum. First, I show how dealers and decorators actively sought out wallpapers that could be removed, restored and resold at a time when country houses in Britain were being demolished or their contents sold off. Second, I look at how wallpapers began to be collected and presented in museums and at heritage sites, movements which involved input from curators, decorators and the new profession of conservator. For wallpaper, these activities meant that it was removed from one interior, where it had formed a fixed part of an architectural whole, to one where its function was often to convey a loosely defined ‘period style’ as part of a period room display. Third, and finally, the Epilogue explores how eighteenth-century papers began to be reproduced as part of the creation of interiors decorated with supposedly authentic reproductions of earlier wall finishes. In these reproductions, colour, scale and finish could also be manipulated to create designs which reinterpreted eighteenthcentury wallpaper for consumers who were not all concerned with (or indeed desired) period accuracy. For those that were the term ‘old’ acquired a special usage, since ‘old’ blocks and ‘old’ paper implied an interior that was directly linked to the past, and in particular the idealised Georgian past. These movements also of course raise issues around the materiality of wallpaper and agency. These issues are well expressed by Daniel Miller: ‘quite often we are not the agents that create the material environment that becomes the medium of representation. Furthermore there is the point that it is an intrinsic quality of materiality that makes objects transcend any such relationship to persons’.1 Once removed from its original context, eighteenth-century wallpaper can be seen both as remaining imbued with certain qualities, but also able to acquire others based on its new cultural significance, a process that I argue extends to its reproduction, too. The history of how eighteenth-century wallpaper has been reused and rehung is also inextricably linked to the country house. The country house occupies a much debated role in British material culture. As Margot Finn has pointed out, those who played key roles in Britain and its empire either owned them or passed through their doors. The country house is both national icon and media star, and at least until the 1970s it was presented as a timeless vehicle, its origins in profits from the exploitation of people and raw materials often ignored. Wallpaper, especially Chinese wallpaper, is part of this story but it also has a special role to play in the idea of the country house as a timeless vehicle, as the rediscovery and reprinting of eighteenth-century papers is

156 Epilogue associated with what has become known as the English country house style, or what Louise Ward has called ‘the English country house look as it might have been but never was’.2 The exponents of this style as it emerged in the 1930s were seen as combining an American desire for comfort and luxury with an English aristocratic way of life associated with unstudied, faded elegance and objects accumulated over generations, a taste with which faded wallpapers accorded.3 The key figures in its formation are characterised as the decorator John Fowler and the American Nancy Lancaster, indeed Fowler applied the term ‘pleasing decay’ to describe his approach to decorating. This term is associated with the paintings of John Piper (1903–92), whose work was celebrated in an article of the same title published in the Architectural Review in 1940, and it became a catchword for a Picturesque approach to conservation.4 As noted in the Introduction, architectural history has largely ignored eighteenthcentury wallpaper, despite, or perhaps because of, the widespread admiration for the Georgian as a building type by the 1930s.5 It was therefore left to a circle of dealers, decorators and scholars to stimulate and fulfil demand for supposedly authentic eighteenth-century schemes. Much of this activity reinforced the primacy of Chinese wallpapers, since they were not only preserved in greater numbers, but could be removed more easily and were more profitable. This survival has, however, masked the issue that many papers were relocated, either soon after they were hung or at a later date, particularly during the period when chinoiserie was once again at its height – notably during the 1920s and 1930s.6 This makes surviving schemes’ claims to authenticity problematic. As early as the 1910s dealers were offering not just reconstructions and copies of panelled interiors for sale, but also sets of Chinese paper, reinforcing the typology where Chinese papers were valued over English-made papers due to their associations with luxury, exclusivity and costliness. Just as in the eighteenth century, these were sold at auction. For example, in 1952 at the sale of the contents of Fawley Court in Berkshire a set of Chinese wallpaper was described as hand-painted with flowers and birds ‘without duplication’ in the lengths. Preferences for sets of certain subjects, particularly bird and flower designs, are characteristic of twentieth-century taste, in an apparent reversal of eighteenth-century hierarchies. The purchaser at Fawley was also warned they must remove the paper ‘at their own expense, making good the damage, if any, to the fabric, to the satisfaction of the owner’s agents’.7 Condition, however, seemed to have mattered less than design or quantity; when the paper from Newnham Paddocks in Warwickshire was removed in the same year the room had already been stripped of even its floor and the paper hung limply from the walls. This did not stop it being sold to a local firm in Leamington Spa and then on the London dealers, Pratts, before the house was finally demolished.8 Although such sets of Chinese wallpaper had remained valued and survived in numbers into the 1930s, the poor survival of schemes composed of India pictures may be because they were simply sold off individually; at the Fawley sale three lots of ‘miscellaneous framed engravings’ might have been remnants of the prints put up by Bromwich’s which Caroline Lybbe Powys admired in 1771.9 For dealers, Chinese wallpaper provided a new type of interior which could be marketed and sold, and, as in the eighteenth century, it competed with panelled interiors. One example of a firm who moved into this area was White Allom, founded by Charles Allom (1865–1947) in 1893, who rapidly established a string of clients and offices on both sides of the Atlantic.10 Allom’s museum clients included the V&A, and as early as 1912 he offered the museum a complete wallpapered interior: a set of sixteen pieces

Epilogue 157 of painted Chinese wallpaper and a recently made French panel. E.F. Strange of the museum made the case for purchase, writing to the museum’s Director that: ‘there is much to be said for [. . .] using this in a scheme of decoration for a bay or room in the Dept of woodwork- in which Chinese Chippendale & other furniture could be arranged’, arguing further that ‘one of the principal elements in the decoration now before us is a series of architectural details & particularly frets and lattices, of exactly the sort that inspired European makers of furniture in the Chinese style’.11 Chinese wallpaper was then being conceived as a means to illuminate interactions between Asia and Europe, albeit interactions where European makers were ‘inspired’ by Chinese patterns. The correspondence with the V&A also gives insights into Allom’s working methods, since the papers’ provenance was simply ‘old’, and he recommended that a cornice and architrave be hung with the Chinese wallpaper, writing that ‘I have some old architraves, and shall be delighted to mould and cast at cost price a cornice, if the Board would agree to have the room fitted up as near as possible in the old style’. It also conveys the desirability of the set, since although Allom had bought the paper for £200 and offered it to the museum for £220, he claimed that when fitted up in a room he would have no trouble to get £600 or even £800 for the set, due to its rarity and the fact that it would be unlikely to be found on the market again.12 In the end, the museum did not acquire a ‘chinoiserie’ interior until 1924 when the room from 33 Long Street, Wotton-under-Edge, including its wallpaper (Figure 3.4), was purchased. The house, known as Burgage House, had been the home of the antiquarian Vincent Perkins (d.1922), and was renamed Berkeley House by the dealer R.F. Harper in 1922 in a nod to the aristocratic associations of nearby Berkeley Castle, no doubt to help in marketing its interiors, at least one other of which was sold to an American museum. In contrast to Allom’s earlier approach, the V&A bought the complete room interior including the chimney-piece, cornice and panelling as well as the wallpaper and by 1925 this was installed in the museum as a period room. When the wallpaper was first acquired, however, the English hand painted landscape design was thought to be an India paper: in 1905 Archibald Russell had called it an ‘uncontaminated’ Chinese design.13 However, once the design was removed from the wall, English tax stamps were revealed on the reverse. This discovery led to reassessments of the scheme, including by Oman who described the English designer as a copyist who had ‘missed’, the ‘skilful composition’ characteristic of Chinese wallpapers.14 The paper’s techniques and use of the landscape format also meant it was seen as in a different category to other surviving English wallpapers in the Chinese style; in 1945 Entwisle illustrated it with the caption ‘Better type of XVIII-century Chinoiserie design’.15 Such negative readings did not stop the Berkeley House design being copied in around 1936 for the Saloon of Sir Philip Sassoon’s (1888–1939) country house in Middlesex, Trent Park. This design was again hand painted, but it reversed the hierarchies of the eighteenth-century Chinese imitation wallpaper, since it had to be scaled up, not down, to fit whilst retaining the original’s faded colouration. The copy may also have gained from a museum provenance, rather than an example from a country house which had passed through a dealer. By rejecting the reflective surfaces and dramatic colour contrasts characteristic of 1930s chinoiserie interiors Sassoon also aligned himself with ‘pleasing decay’.16 The desirability of acquiring a Chinese Room as a component of the country house interior was also part of the wider revival of interest in chinoiserie. Lancaster for example created a Chinese room at Kelmarsh Hall in Northamptonshire in c.1939, hanging an eighteenth-century paper which is associated with one of the lost

158 Epilogue India papered interiors at Felbrigg. However, when it came to decorating the dining room of her Oxfordshire country house, Haseley Court, in the 1950s, like Sassoon she had it painted, albeit in a reproduction not of a museum’s paper but one with courtly associations, from the Royal Theatre at Drottinghölm in Sweden. At these sites the identity of a Chinese Room was established through the presence of a Chinese wallpaper, at the same time as the material’s commercial identity was erased in favour of an aristocratic provenance situated in the country house. The market for sets of Chinese paper meant it was not just ‘old’ papers, but also newly painted sets in a faded palette that were in demand. In 1928 Oman explained to readers of Old Furniture that, despite the numbers that had survived, demand for them so far exceeded supply that hand-painted copies ‘closely following the Chinese originals are at present being produced in London’.17 Indeed, Fowler began his career restoring ‘old’ Chinese papers and painting facsimiles for the decorators Thornton Smith on Soho Square, whose work in this area was well known. Similarly, the decorators Green & Abbott copied imitation Chinese panels, rather than sets of wallpapers, which were of course much easier both to supply and fit.18 Taste for panels is also revealed by the remodelling which took place in the parlour at Hampden House in Buckinghamshire, where an enlarged dining room was created at some point between 1906 and c.1930. Rather than abandon the eighteenth-century scheme composed of Chinese papers, which included a floral, imitation bamboo borders and panels imitating grotesques (Plate 5), these were taken down and rehung as individual panels while the ornaments were recoloured. Here then the specific provenance to the site was retained, while the design was adjusted both to accommodate the taste for panels and the enlarged space.19 By the 1930s the search was on for other types of wallpapers in country houses. In 1930 Meyric R. Rogers of the City Art Museum of St. Louis wrote: Considering their temporary character and fragility, and, until recently, the lack of general interest in them, a surprising number and variety of old wallpapers dating between the years 1750 and 1825 have survived. Most of these have been in actual use and if not left in place have been only recently removed from their original backing.20 In 1930 the museum bought a set of arabesque papers as part of an interior John Harris described as ‘compiled’ by the dealers Robersons in 1928–29, who listed it as a ‘fine old Adam wallpaper painted by Pergolesi’ which had been ‘presented to lady Fitzherbert by the Prince of Wales’ and hung at Kempshott Park (Figure 6.4). By associating the papers not only with a specific site, but also with the names of a wellknown designer, an equally well-known architect and no less than two Royal patrons Robersons then sought to give it the seal of authenticity.21 It was not only Chinese and French papers that were sought out in this way. There is also some evidence that flocks were removed and resold; Oman recorded that the castellated design advertised by the Blue Paper Warehouse (Figure 1.3) had been taken down and sold from Saltfleet Manor, Lincolnshire in 1927. Although he judged that in his own time flocking was ‘in the eclipse’, Oman suggested that there was no reason why it should not be revived ‘if designers will keep in mind the materials they should imitate’. Flocks visual effects could also be enhanced. Oman reported that at Hampton Court flocks ‘which have hung for well over a hundred and fifty years’ had been ‘covered with a wash of paint’ during a redecoration in the 1920s. Although he considered

Epilogue 159 the process questionable, he did add that the ‘brilliance’ of the original effects could often be seen where papers had been protected by pictures.22 This combination of faded colour and long duration on the wall is one that underpins not only the way in which Chinese wallpapers have been perceived, but also flocks. For example in the Long Gallery at Temple Newsam a green flock on a glazed green ground was on the walls for some eighty years from the 1740s to 1827, before being replaced by a red flock. In 1933 Lady Mary Meynell (d.1937), who had lived at Temple Newsam during the nineteenth century, recalled this red flock as ‘a wonderful old flock paper about 150 years old, crimson in colour and bold design, faded in patches which only served to bring out the beauty of the pattern’.23 The costliness of making flocks has certainly affected how they have been perceived, and may explain why they were amongst the first eighteenth-century designs to be reproduced as block prints. As early as 1907 Sanderson produced a printed version of the Privy Council flock. It was named the ‘Earl of Onslow’ as it was also found at Clandon, echoing the aristocratic associations in pattern naming used in the eighteenth-century. Flocks also lent themselves to patching and repairs, in the same way as they did in the eighteenth-century. In the Red chamber at Clandon (Plate 9) Fowler rehung the window wall, the most faded part of the decoration, in a Cole’s reproduction, but on the other walls the flock was patched in and a reproduction flock border hung. The costs of making flocks by hand methods, as opposed to machine, have also affected perceptions; in 1974 Entwisle noted that although many wallpaper manufacturers continued to manufacture flocks using traditional processes the flock itself was likely to be a man-made material, rather than wool. However, flock’s associations with gentility lingered, since he also judged that ‘most of the designs still reflect the elegance of the 18th century’.24 Cost, however, was still an issue in 1982 when the crimson flock from Lydiard Tregoze in Wiltshire was reprinted by Cole’s for hanging in the drawing room and patching in losses in the State bedchamber. The Swindon Evening Advertiser reported that although a ‘normal’ patterned flock paper cost about £16.45 a roll, Lydiard’s paper was £120 a roll, working out that since the rooms were last decorated in 1828 this was only 76p a year.25 The conservator Allyson McDermott has also produced flocks using methods and materials which are as close as possible to the originals, seen in the green flock hung in the Long Gallery at Temple Newsam and the red flock hung at Uppark after the fire of 1989. In comparison to Chinese papers and flocks, far fewer examples of coloured wallpapers remain on the wall. There are, however, examples of removal and reuse of these too, but my research indicates that these focused on hand painted examples, rather than the swathes of distemper prints which have been lost. At Harrington House the Upper hall (Figure 5.8) was restored by K. Coruzaci of Cheltenham in 1891, a name it is tempting to associate with the dealers Martyns.26 The house’s owner, J.A. Fort, seemingly sold the papers in the 1920s, perhaps after they were illustrated in Nancy McClelland’s Historic Wall-Papers, where she described the scheme as ‘green on a pinkish ground’.27 A related set of papers supplied by a London merchant to Stephen Van Rensselear II (1742–69) for the hall of his manor house in Albany in 1788 was retained as a period room of the Metropolitan Museum in New York as part of the redevelopment of the American wing in 2012.28 It was not only private clients and dealers desiring period effects who impacted on how wallpapers were perceived. Changing attitudes to preservation also stimulated the collection of wallpapers by museums. By the late 1920s the loss of early papers due to the demolition or remodelling of country (and urban) houses was becoming a

160 Epilogue growing concern, an issue highlighted in Eric Maclagan’s prefatory note to Oman’s first catalogue to the V&A’s collection.29 Awareness resulted in proactive collecting; for example in 1937 after learning that Cranford House in Heston, Middlesex, was to be demolished for an aerodrome (now part of Heathrow) a curator from the V&A visited the site and carried out a survey of the wallpapers which had been found, eight of which were subsequently accessioned by the museum.30 Demolitions affected houses in both London and the country. A ceiling paper and its border was described as one of a group of papers ‘from a fourteenth century house in Faversham, Kent which was due to be demolished for a development scheme, but which has fortunately been reprieved’ (Plate 1).31 These concerns may have encouraged the Wallpaper Manufacturers Ltd to present examples from its own museum to the V&A, amounting to an increase of almost fifty per cent in the Museum’s wallpaper collection between 1929 and 1934. However, as Woods has argued, although Sugden claimed to have no wish to interfere in the museum other than to improve ‘the historical records of our articles’ by the early 1930s it was clear that such gifts also involved acceptance of the industry’s interpretation of wallpaper’s history.32 In London during the 1980s, English Heritage curators employed more pragmatic methods: for example, a Chippendale flock from Soho Square was rescued after an early morning tour of skips. It was not only museums that carried out collecting. Throughout his career Fowler assembled examples of papers and textiles acquired in his work in country houses up and down the country. Study of the fragments he donated to the V&A, almost fifty in total, reveals that he was ahead of his time in documenting provenance and location, albeit again serving the country house and aristocratic associations; a note attached to a flocked border inscribed ‘found in a drawer in Colt Hoare’s desk’ at Stourhead in Wiltshire is a case in point.33 Attitudes to eighteenth-century papers were formed not only by museums, decorators and dealers but by exhibitions too, in particular the Exhibition of Historical & British Wallpapers which opened at the Suffolk Galleries in May, 1945.34 Although the focus was on the contemporary, an historical papers section opened the exhibition and attracted considerable interest.35 It reflected the designer T.A. Fennemore’s (1902–59) own taste for the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, as well as that of Entwisle, who was involved in the selection of the historical papers and probably authored its catalogue. In an article written prior to the opening Entwisle claimed that it would be the most representative group of wallpapers ever assembled, but in reality there was a bias in favour of early printed wallpapers, flocks and Chinese papers.36 Twenty-three out of thirty exhibits were loaned by the V&A; the private lenders included Ronald Baker whose loans included the hunting scene (Figure 1.2), subsequently a G.P. & J. Baker design, ‘Park Lane’.37 The exhibition included photographs of actual schemes, displayed in showcases below examples of the wallpapers, as well as four ‘Enlargements of photographs of wallpaper in position’ drawn from what was then the National Buildings Record and from the V&A, including the Berkeley House paper, the beginnings of a desire to show the relationship between wallpaper and its context. Another historical exhibition was held at Sanderson’s Berners Street showrooms in 1975: ‘The Decorative Craft of the Paper Stainer: an historic exhibition of wallpapers, friezes and wall decorations from the 17th– 20th century’ included an ‘exquisite reproduction of an 18th century wallpaper shop, together with tools of the paper stainer’s trade’. Manufacturers also reproduced eighteenth-century designs. MacIver Percival was responsible for a series of articles aimed at the decorating trade entitled ‘The World

Epilogue 161 of Wallpaper’ in 1925, one of which incorporated enlarged details of papers from eighteenth-century satirical prints, suggesting a demand from the trade for new design sources.38 Then as now, reproductions of wallpapers often involved museums, heritage sites and decorators. McClelland combined her work as an interior designer with expertise in historic papers. Writing in a 1929 volume on careers for women she claimed that her firm was known for both its ‘old wall papers, and modern imported papers printed from old blocks’ and it is doubtless this expertise which led her to compile wallpaper collections for several American museums in the 1920s, including the Metropolitan.39 She combined knowledge of ‘antique’ wallpaper with reprinting historic designs, selling Chinese wallpaper to Henry Dupont for Winterthur and also decorating the Williamsburg Inn with Mauny papers, a firm also used by Fowler. McClelland provided the first example of a decorator linking commercially available wallpapers to a specific heritage site and period style, and this concern to provide what we might describe as a ‘heritage provenance’ is reflected on the other side of the Atlantic. It has also been suggested that it was Fowler’s experience working on country house interiors after the second world war which encouraged him to have traditional patterns of wallpaper printed for him by Cole’s, using fragments he found in houses or their collections. There were other significant figures too in this process. One was Basil Ionides (1883–1962) an interior designer, the author of two books on interior decoration, and a collector of eighteenth-century works of art with a keen interest in eighteenthcentury wallpapers and preservation. Howbridge Hall in Essex was the subject of an article by him in the Architectural Review. It illustrated the papers discovered in the course of restoration, for its time carefully documenting their location, colours and even the use of joined sheets. Ionides also offered readers of the Review (many, presumably, his fellow architects) advice on papers’ removal: Care must be taken in removing old papers. They are very brittle and will not stand water [. . .] if other papers have been pasted in front they can generally be removed with care, as the paste has lost its power. The drawback is usually that the colour is apt to have stuck to the succeeding layer. He also reminded readers that salvaged papers should be kept flat and not rolled ‘as their brittleness demands careful treatment’, remarking that ‘it is almost impossible to remove an old paper that has been pasted onto wood. It is better to photograph it, or better still, to trace it and colour the tracing to match’.40 Ionides was also an enthusiast for reproductions. Reprinted papers were a hallmark of the interior of Buxted Park, the eighteenth-century country house in Sussex he restored for his own use. By 1934 the drawing room was hung with a flock ‘the colour of curds’, which had been specially printed from ‘old blocks’ by Sanderson, while a ‘mellow old Chinese wallpaper’ created a setting for lacquer and ceramics in the Chinese Room. The latter reflected his taste for ‘faded reconstructions’ although he acknowledged that they were not what he called ‘the most truthful representations of real taste of the period’ since they created a very different aesthetic vocabulary from the vibrant pink, yellow and blue grounds admired by eighteenth-century consumers. Nevertheless, he recommended Chinese wallpaper in the chapter on brown in his book Colour and Interior Decoration since, although he admitted that filling walls in a room with brown colouring was not easy, Chinese papers could be twice sized and varnished with a little brown in the size, so

162 Epilogue enhancing faded effects.41 However, in 1940 Buxted was destroyed by fire and when it was rebuilt a reprinted eighteenth-century floral stripe was hung in two different colourways, blue/green in the library and yellow/apricot in the drawing room, illustrated in Country Life in an early colour spread of interiors.42 For Ionides faded grounds were acceptable in Chinese papers, but not in reproductions of printed patterns whose colour palette owed more to the taste of his own time. Since the 1960s there has been an expansion in the reproduction of eighteenth-century designs. Early pioneers included Laura Ashley (1925–85) who focused in the beginning on small-scale domestic designs but whose later collections included designs based on flocks and chinoiserie patterns.43 Zoffany & Co’s collection based on wallpapers from Temple Newsam was an early example of collaborations between museums, heritage bodies and manufacturers. Hamilton-Weston Wallpapers, and Little Greene, working with English Heritage, have concentrated not on the country house but on papers from London houses. Chinese wallpapers are also now made in China by the companies de Gournay and Fromental; for example although no fragments survived of Lady Suffolk’s scheme at Marble Hill a Chinese wallpaper by de Gournay was rehung in the dining parlour in 2006. More recently, digital printing has been used to preserve visual effects; for example, while panels of the Chinese wallpaper at Coutts on the Strand were being conserved digital representations of the panels were hung in their place. Changing attitudes towards restoration and post-war changes in taste also impacted on eighteenth-century papers which remained on the wall. At Moccas Court, sold in 1947, the white ground on the walls of the drawing room was repainted in blue, and the printed panels’ background repainted in cream, perhaps to disguise the fading of the original blue ground and other alterations. This work was part of a restoration carried out by the Italian artist Paul Maciadi after the house’s sale (Plate 21).44 Beginning in the late 1960s Fowler also carried out restoration work for the National Trust, notably at Clandon in Surrey. In a ground floor drawing room he discovered the green damask pattern mock flock behind a later scheme, taking the decision to expose the earlier scheme but toning down the original varnished ground (Plate 13).45 Major restoration of the Palladian room was also carried out. Photographs taken in the winter of 1968–69 show the wallpaper removed from the wall and laid out on the floor of a nearby room; the support was renewed and it seems some areas were collaged in using fragments of the paper, perhaps found behind the pier glasses.46 The vogue for historic interiors, which began in the 1980s, proved to be both the salvation and the downfall of extant schemes, since in some cases it resulted in their conservation, whilst in others it resulted in the removal and sale of wallpapers (in one case to fuel the then owner’s ‘Bugatti habit’). It has, however, led to an expansion of interest and patterns have been recoloured and reworked by contemporary designers in the same way as eighteenth-century wallpaper manufacturers used imitation of other finishes to create new products.

Notes 1 Daniel Miller, ‘Possessions’, in Home Possessions: Material Culture behind Closed Doors, ed. Daniel Miller (Oxford: Berg, 2001), 112. 2 Louise Ward, ‘Chintz, Swags and Bows: The Myth of the English Country-House Style, 1930–90’ in Interior Design and Identity, ed. Susie McKellar and Penny Sparke (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004), 92–113.

Epilogue 163 3 For more on Fowler and Lancaster see Martin Wood, ‘John Fowler, Nancy Lancaster and the English Country House’ in British Design: Tradition and Modernity after 1948, ed. Christopher Breward, Fiona Fisher and Ghislaine Wood (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 51–63. 4 Frances Spalding, John Piper, Myfanwy Piper (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 133–34. 5 For more on this see Elizabeth McKellar and Julian Holder, eds, Neo-Georgian Architecture 1880–1979: A Reappraisal (Swindon: Historic England 2016), especially Julian Holder and Elizabeth McKellar, ‘Introduction: Reappraising the Neo-Georgian’, 1–12, and the present author’s essay in the same volume ‘Modern Swedish Rococo: The Neo-Georgian Interior in Britain, c1920–c1945’, 151–66. 6 Clare Taylor, ‘“Painted Paper of Pekin”: The Taste for Eighteenth-Century Chinese Wallpapers in Britain, c.1918–c.1945’ in The Reception of Chinese Art across Cultures, ed. Michelle Ying-Ling Huang (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014), 44–64. 7 H.B. Baverstock & Son, ‘Catalogue of the Contents of the Mansion and Estate Effects at Fawley Court’, 14 July 1952, Copy in River and Rowing Museum files. 8 Interiors of Newnham Paddocks, Warwickshire, photographed c.1952, A6560–6562, Warwickshire Archives. 9 Baverstock & Son, ‘Catalogue of the Contents’. 10 For more on Allom see Clare Taylor, ‘Scholars, Dealers and Decorators: In Search of the Georgian Period Room’ in The Period Room: Museum, Material, Experience, ed. Howard Coutts, Mark Westgarth and Jane Whittaker (forthcoming 2018). 11 V&A, Registered Files. 12 V&A, Registered Files. 13 Archibald G.B. Russell, ‘A Seventeenth-Century Wall-Paper at Wotton-under-Edge’ Burlington Magazine 7, no. 28 (July 1905), 309–11. Russell’s assessment is repeated (unattributed) by E.A. Entwisle in ‘Chinese Painted Wallpapers’ Connoisseur 93 (June 1934), 373. 14 C.C. Oman, ‘English Chinoiserie Wallpapers’ Country Life (11 February 1933), 150. 15 E.A. Entwisle, ‘Historians of Wallpaper’, Connoisseur 115 (March 1945), pl. III, 24. 16 For more on the scheme see Taylor, ‘Modern Swedish Rococo’, 151–66. 17 Quoted in Taylor, ‘Painted Paper of Pekin’, 50. 18 For an example of a paper donated to the V&A by the firm see C.C. Oman and J. Hamilton, Wallpapers: A History & Illustrated Catalogue of the Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Sotheby Publications in association with the V&A, 1982), cat. 97. 19 Taylor, ‘Painted Paper of Pekin’, fig. 3.6. 20 Meyric R. Rogers, ‘The Kempshot House Wallpaper’ Bulletin of the City Art Museum of St. Louis 15, no. 2 (April 1930), 26. 21 John Harris, Moving Rooms: The Trade in Architectural Salvages (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 239 and 300, note 184. 22 C.C. Oman, ‘Old English Flock Papers’ Country Life (10 September 1927), xlii. 23 Lady Mary Meynell, Sunshine and Shadows over a Long Life (London: John Murray, 1933), 186. 24 E.A. Entwisle, ‘Wool on the Walls’ Country Life (12 December 1974), 1881. 25 ‘Roll On! What a Price’, Swindon Evening Advertiser, 19 February 1982; Anthony Wells Cole, Historic Paper Hangings from Temple Newsam and Other English Houses (Leeds: Leeds City Art Galleries, Temple Newsam Country House Studies no. 1, 1983), cat. 19; Anthony Wells Cole, ‘Flocks, Florals and Fancies’ in The Papered Wall: The History, Patterns and Techniques of Wallpaper, ed. Lesley Hoskins (2nd edn. London: Thames and Hudson, 2005), 33; Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 194. 26 See Historic England Archive, NMR, BB79/4828: ‘painted in white wash on paper dated 1788’ and ‘Restored by K. . . . Coruzaci Cheltenham/1891’. 27 Nancy McClelland, Historic Wall-Papers (Philadelphia, PA and London: J.B. Lippincott, 1924), pl. 146. 28 Marjorie Shelley, ‘The Conservation of the van Rensselaer Wallpaper’ Journal of the American Institute for Conservation 20, no. 2 (Spring 1981), 126–38; Amelia Peck, ‘The Van Rensselaer Hall’ in Period Rooms in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ed. John P. O’Neill (New York and London: Metropolitan Museum of Art and Yale University Press, 1996), 197–203; and see Chapter 5.

164 Epilogue 29 C.C. Oman, Victoria and Albert Museum, Department of Engraving, Illustration and Design, Catalogue of Wall-Papers (London: Published under the authority of the Board of Education, 1929); see Christine Woods, ‘“An Object lesson in a Philistine Age”: The Wallpaper Manufacturers’ Museum and the Formulation of the National Collections’ Journal of Design History 12, no.2 (1999), notes 15 and 16, p. 169. 30 Minute note, 27 August 1937, Heston and Isleworth borough correspondence in V&A, Registered Files MA/1/H1805. 31 Mrs Joan Bygrave, 19 Abbey Street, Faversham to the V&A, 20 January 1959, V&A, Registered Files. 32 In the end, the collection was divided across three institutions in Britain: the V&A, the Whitworth Art Gallery and the Manchester Art Gallery. See Woods, ‘An Object Lesson in a Philistine Age’, 160–61. On Sugden see Introduction. 33 Oman and Hamilton, Wallpapers, cat. 158. 34 For a discussion of the exhibition see Clare Taylor, ‘English Wallpaper Manufacture, c.1700– c.1800’ Journal of the British Association of Paper Historians (July 2012), 13–14. 35 For a discussion of the exhibition’s relationship to contemporary design, see M. Pinney, ‘The Rediscovery of Wallpaper’ in A Popular Art: British Wallpapers 1930–1960 (London: Middlesex Polytechnic, 1989), 19–22. 36 E.A. Entwisle, ‘Historians of Wallpaper’ Connoisseur 115 (March 1945), 23. 37 See Catalogue of Historical & Modern Wallpapers exhibited at the Suffolk Galleries, London, May 1945 cats 9, 10, 26–28. 38 MacIver Percival, ‘The World of Wallpaper: Wallpaper of the Sheraton Period’ The Journal of Decorative Art and British Decorator (September 1925), 297–300, figs 6 and 7. 39 Quoted in Bridget May, ‘Nancy Vincent McClelland (1877–1959): Professionalizing Interior Decoration in the Early Twentieth Century’ Journal of Design History 21, no. 2 (2008), 69. 40 Basil Ionides, ‘Old Wallpapers in a Sixteenth-Century House’ Architectural Review 56 (1926): 195–96. 41 Basil Ionides, Colour and Interior Decoration (London: Country Life, 1926), 3. 42 Taylor, ‘Modern Swedish Rococo: The Neo-Georgian interior in Britain, c.1920–c.1945’ in McKellar and Holder Neo-Georgian Architecture, fig. 12.2. 43 Timothy Brittain-Caitlin, ‘A Papered History’ in The Cutting Edge of Wallpaper ed. Cigalle Hanaor (London: Black Dog Publishing, 2006), 15–17. 44 A Brief History and Guide to Moccas Court [n.d.]; Notes on Moccas Court, after 1977, CE91/22/1, Herefordshire Archives. 45 Correspondence between Sybil Colefax and John Fowler, The National Trust and Chestertons Surveyors, December 1968–March 1969, National Trust files; John Cornforth, ‘Clandon Park Revisited – II’ Country Life (11 December 1969), 1582–86. 46 National Trust files. For a description of the paper before Fowler’s restoration see H. Avray Tipping, ‘Clandon Park III’ Country Life (24 September 1927), 436.

Christchurch Mansion, Colchester

First floor, bedchamber First floor, dressing room (adjoining bedchamber) First Floor, State Bedchamber and a closet (NE wing)

Ground floor, Green drawing room Ground floor, Palladian room

Flock

Flock Flock

Claude or Thomas Fornereaux

(continued)

After 1735

c.1735 c.1735

After 1778

Before 1723

c.1720–c.1750

Date

Arabesque paper Les Deux Pigeons

First Earl of Onslow (?supplier and client)

?Sir Uvedale and Lady Mildred Corbett

Client

1730s Attrib. to Réveillon

Supplier/manufacturer

Mock flock

Wallpaper in the Chinese style

Ground floor, Bed chamber

Clandon Park, Surrey

Chinese wallpaper

?Oval room above main entrance

**Salthrop House, Swindon Paper not traced **Longnor Hall, Shropshire

Paper

Room

Site

1. Country houses

Papers are organised as far as possible by date, unless more than one paper is listed for a site, in which case the earliest is given first. Papers are English, unless otherwise stated. Where two dates are given the first date is the one for which I have found the best evidence. ** denotes a site studied, but not discussed in the text.

Appendix 1 List of principal wallpapered rooms discussed, c.1714–c.1795

Dunster Castle, Somerset

Dalemain, Cumbria

Strawberry Hill, Middlesex

Site

1. Country houses

(continued)

Flock Flock

First floor, bedchamber

Ground floor drawing room/parlour Hall and Stair

First floor, Red Bedchamber Off Upper landing, Walpole’s Bedchamber Ground floor, Refectory (Great Parlour) Trunk-ceiled passage & other ceilings Ground floor, Drawing Room First floor, Drawing room

Ground floor, Little Parlour

Flock

First floor, dressing room (one wall survives)

Chinese wallpaper and rail border Papier mâché ceiling

Designed by Harris/Supplied by Crompton & Spinnage

Thomas Bromwich

Capt Cheyne for Edward Hasell Henry Fownes Luttrell

“

Papier mâché

“ “

?Bromwich’s

Flock

“

“

1758

1756

After 1759

After 1755

Hung c.1753, subsequently repainted 1770s and 1790s Before 1753

After 1735

After 1735

After 1735

Claude or Thomas Fornereaux

Claude or Thomas Fornereaux Claude or Thomas Fornereaux Horace Walpole

Date

Client

Gothic stucco paper

?Bromwich’s

Designed by Richard Bentley; manufactured, painted and hung by Bromwich’s (painter: ‘Tudor’)

?Thomas Bromwich (stamp on linen backing may relate to his shop sign, The Golden Lion)

Supplier/manufacturer

Gothic stucco wallpaper (hung with Jackson prints) Flock

Gothic stucco wallpaper (painted)

Paper

Room

Ground floor, Drawing room

Saloon

Hartlebury Castle

Second floor, (N front) Collopy’s bedroom (relocated to first floor Chinese Bedroom, 1960s) Second floor, (N front) Colopies dressing room (relocated to ground floor Mirror Room, 1960s) First floor, SW bedroom (now the Study)

Ground floor, parlour (enlarged to ballroom, 1920s) Ground floor, State bedchamber (now dining room) First floor, SE dressing room and screen

Doddington Hall, Lincolnshire

Saltram House, Devon

Hampden House, Buckinghamshire

?

Bishop James Johnson

Sir John Hussey Delavel

John and Theresa Parker

?Bromwich & Leigh

Chinese pictures and prints with collaged figures and English borders Papier mâché frames and ornaments (hung over flock) Papier mâché frames, ornaments and ceiling ?Peter Babell

“

?Thomas Bromwich

Chinese wallpaper

(continued)

1760s

c.1760

After 1760, c.1775

c.1757

c.1757

“

Associated with purchases made from ?Thomas Bromwich or ?Crompton & Spinnage ?Thomas Bromwich (stamp on linen backing may relate to his shop sign, The Golden Lion)

Chinese paper on silk with English borders

Hung 1758

Late l750s?

“

“

Hung 1758

?Sir John and Lady Catherine Parker

Robert Trevor

?William Linnell with ?Thomas Bromwich

Chinese prints (two motifs, repeated) and collaged figures

Chinese wallpaper, panels & rail borders Chinese wallpaper

Upper (mezzanine) floor, print room

2 suites of bedrooms and dressing rooms

**Uppark, West Sussex

**Ramsbury Manor, Wiltshire

Paper not traced

Ground floor drawing Room First floor, Mrs Freeman’s bed chamber Mrs Freeman’s dressing Room Billiard room

Alscot Park, Warwickshire Fawley Court, Oxfordshire Paper not traced Paper not traced

Chinese wallpaper

First floor, dressing room [and powdering room] First floor, print room (1794 Copperplate Room)

Chinese wallpapers

Chinese print room scheme Chinese print room scheme Prints and ornaments: painted flower pots (collaged on dado)

Papier mâché ceiling and ornaments Chintz paper pasted with Chinese figures

Prints, with re.)

Chinese wallpaper and rail border

First floor, bedroom (the Chinese Room)

Blickling Hall, Norfolk

Paper

Room

Site

1. Country houses

(continued)

c.1775

1774

Sir Matthew Fetherstonhaugh Mrs Vivares and Regniers Print Shop (prints etc) ?Sarah Fetherstonhaugh (flower pots) Associated with Macartney gift to Coutts, see 59 the Strand (below)

Before 1771

Sambrooke Freeman

Bromwich’s

Before 1771

Before 1771

Sambrooke Freeman

Sambrooke Freeman

?Bromwich’s

1765

By 1793

1760s

1760s

Date

Bromwich’s

James West

“ (associated with his second wife, Caroline Conolly)

John Hobart, Second Earl of Buckinghamshire (associated with his first wife, Mary Anne Drury) “

Client

?Caroline, Countess Buckinghamshire (sisterin-law of Lady Louisa Conolly); scheme rehung by John Sutcliffe, 1974 Bromwich’s

?Gift of Henrietta Howard, Lady Suffolk

Supplier/manufacturer

23 Hill Street Paper not traced

2. London houses

Kempshott Park, Surrey (demolished)

Moccas Court, Herefordshire Shugborough, Staffordshire

Stair

Boston Manor House, Middlesex Paxton, Berwickshire

First floor rear, dressing Room

Ground floor, Round drawing room Ground floor, drawing room(s) & anti gallery Ground floor, Dressing room (to Silk Room) Ante room, bed chambers and dressing rooms; Circular room Four closets Upper hall

Ground floor, drawing Room

Ground floor, Octagon room (drawing room)

Winnington Hall, Cheshire

Chinese wallpaper

Satin printed paper Arabesque panels, pilasters and borders (and 4 panels over bow)

‘Ruins’ wallpaper and border (over Chinese paper?) Arabesque panels, pilasters and borders Arabesque panels and borders Varnished and silvered linen Satin ground paper and borders Silvered linen

Chinese wallpaper

?Linnell/? Bromwich

Elizabeth Montagu

“ George IV as Prince of Wales

“

“

“ Arthur et Robert/London supplier/?Henry Holland

“

“

Chippendale

Sir George Cornewall Sir Thomas Anson

Sir Ninian Home

Isherwood’s

Attributed to Réveillon/John Sherringham Samuel Wyatt/Eckhardts

Susannah Warburton and Richard Pennant Ann Clitherow

(continued)

c.1750

“ c.1795

“

“

1795

c.1790

1789

1786 (or 1760s)

After c.1775

House at Wallbridge, Stroud, Gloucestershire (demolished)

3. Regional town houses

59 the Strand (Coutts Bank)

16 Young Street, Kensington Bolton House

17 Albemarle Street, W1

26 Soho Square (demolished)

Flock

‘Print room’ paper and border

Hall

Mock flock Classical ruins & gothic borders Paper imitating stone, borders and ?other decorations Chinese wallpaper

Flock Flock

Chinese wallpaper and borders Wallpaper imitating damask (mock flock) Flock

Paper

?Hall

First floor drawing room

Ground floor passage linking hall and stair

First floor (rear) Stair

First floor (front, rear and bedroom) First floor Second floor (rear)

Ground floor, dining room First floor front, ?drawing room

Marble Hill

47 Leicester Square (demolished)

Room

Site

1. London houses

(continued)

Associated with the Blue Paper Warehouse

?Gift of Lord Macartney

John Middleton/Robert Adam

“

Thomas Chippendale

William Hallett with ?Thomas Bromwich ?James Paine or ?Sir William Chambers

Supplier/manufacturer

John Cole

John Cole

Thomas Coutts

Duchess of Bolton

?John Richards

Sir William Robinson “

Sir Joshua Reynolds

Henrietta Howard

Client

?1740s

After c.1714

c.1794 (or c.1769)

c.1770

c.1760–65 c.1760–65

c.1770 c.1760–65

1760

1760–92 (or 1760s)

Hung by 1755

Date

House at Sulgrave, Oxfordshire The Old Manor, Bourton-onthe-Water, Gloucestershire House on Glamorgan Street, Brecon Harrington House, Bourton-onthe-Water, Gloucestershire Paper not traced

The Ancient High House, Greengate Street, Stafford

Berkeley/Burgage House, 31 Long Street, Wottonunder-Edge, Gloucestershire The Hollytrees, Colchester, Essex

Flock

First and second floor rear rooms Hall

First floor front: upper hall

Unused

Stencilled, painted and collaged wallpaper with border Stucco papers

First floor West (mezzanine), ?bedchamber Hall, stair and passage

Painted panels

Flocked arabesque panel

Stucco paper in the Chinese style Stucco ceiling paper and wallpapers

Painted wallpaper in the Chinese style with printed borders

First floor rear ? bedchamber (associated with powdering room)

Previously attributed to J.B. Jackson

English, after Réveillon

Previously attrib. to Bromwich/Spinnage

Lady Harrington

Late 1780s (?1788)

c.1785

Late 1760s

c.1760s

1760s

1760s

Brooke Crutchley

“

Hung after c.1748

c.1740

Charles Gray

?William Mayo

Gt. Dover Street & 9 Blackman Street, Borough 76 Fleet St

Stationer, Print Seller and Paper hanger Paper Hangings Manufacturers (Paper Stainers, 1793)

Birch & Overy associated with Richard Overy; by 1788 Birch and Ouvry ?associated with Charles Ouvry (p-s of Bethnall Green, member Joiner & Ceilers Co, LBT/02679) and Chamberlayne Birch

63 (The Bible & Crown) Bishopsgate Within, and at their manufactory in Petticoat Lane.

Stationers & Paper Hanging Manufactory (Stationers & Paper Hanger, 1793)

Armitage & Roper, 1787–98 Armitage & Moore, 1787–98 (by 1793 Stationer & Paper hangers) ?associated with Robert Armitage (d. 1793, stat LBT/02734); Robert Armitage (bound Stats 1778, LBT/16972), succ.by Rickman Moore (active 1793, 1796; stat & member Draper’s Co LBT/00159) Ann Biddulph (LBT/28755 m. Thomas Hamilton, stat, 1787–1818, LBT/29200).

Location(s)

Trade(s)

Name(s)

c.1784–98

Active 1807

1763, 1774; 1793; AH 1768 & 1799; R 1768–86

Dates recorded

Bill J. Thomas & Co, 1784 (MOL 66.94/23, 24); Birch & Ouvry LMA Sun Fire Ins MS11936/353/543902 (1788, 76 Fleet St); 365/564889 (1790, 76 Fleet St); 392/61194 (1793, 12 Salisbury Square, Fleet St).

Tc GL.

Bill 177[7] (BM, HC 91.1, tc 91.2).

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Names are arranged alphabetically, except where a name is followed by others in the same or succeeding box indicating a successor (succ. by) or partner(s). Dates are based on the following sources: Thomas Mortimer’s list in The Universal Director (1763), The New and Complete Guide (1774), Bailey’s Directory (1784), The London & country Printers (1785), Boyle’s Directory (1793) and advertisements and other notices. Tradecards (tcs) and bills are listed from the British Museum, Heal & Banks collections (BM, HC/BC); Bodleian Library, John Johnson Collection (Bod., JJC); Guildhall Library (GL); Museum of London (MOL) and other listed archives. Other references: Ambrose Heal’s notes in the BM, HC collection (AH); Treve Rosoman’s appendix compiled 1992 (R); the Dictionary of English Furniture Makers (DEFM); the London Book Trades Database (LBT) and Ian Maxted (Maxted). Other abbreviations: appr= apprenticed; bkseller= book seller; freed= completed apprenticeship; stat= stationer; p-s= paper stainer; pr-s= print-seller; merch= merchant; ph maker= paper hangings maker; ph manuf= paper hangings manufacturer; p-h= paper hanger; Stats= Stationer’s Company; RO= County Record Office.

Appendix 2 List of eighteenth-century London paper hangings tradesmen discussed

Stationary [sic] and Paper Hanging Warehouse Paper Stainer

Blands

G(eorge) Britton (bound Stats 1770, p-s, apprd to Joseph Taylor, LBT/22528) Thomas Bromwich (active 1729–d.1787)

Stationer and embosser Paper hanging manufacturer Leather Gilder & Paper Merchant (1744)

Paper Hanging Manufacturer

John Hall; Abraham Hall

Bowers & Co ?associated with James Bowers (bound Stats 1798, LBT/19076) Thomas Brentnall

Aldermanbury

Paper Warehouse

107 Bermondsey St The Golden Lion, 35, Ludgate Hill

Newgate St

21 Old Bond St

Opposite New Round Court, the Strand

8 Aldermanbury

Aldermanbury

Paper warehouse

Blue (Blew) Paper Warehouse associated with Abraham Price (c.1690–1750s?) and ?Robert Dunbar; succ. Hall’s Robert Dunbar d.1744; by 1761 S. Dunbar

R 1744–60s

1793

1750–51

1793

1763 (John); 1774 (John & Son) 1784 (Abraham R 1783–1804) 1768

DEFM 1734–51 R 1720?–52

R 1691–c.1740s

(continued)

Bills: 1733 (Stonor Archives); Richard Hoare 1742 (BM, HC 91.5; Mrs Hoare 1744 (BM, HC 91.6); Mr Bennett 1749 (BM, HC 91.7); A. Stevenson, n.d (BM, BC 91.32); Mrs Hucks, 1748 and 1754 (MOL 20/07/05 and A8601/27); Lancelot Brown’s Building Book, 1758 (Warwicks RO M1 416 TD94/1). Other bills detailed in the text.

Bills: 1734 (?Stock) & 1740 (Mr Hoare), Ill Entwisle, History, pls 27 & 36; letter Duke Richmond, 1738 (West Sussex RO). Other bills detailed in the text. See correspondence between Ambrose Heal and E.A. Entwisle, 1949 (BM, HC 91.44–91.45). Abraham Hall LMA Sun Fire Ins MS11936/388/602371 (1792).

Tc c.1720; Bill Ab. Price to Robt Hucks, 1740 (MOL Z1704/133).

Paper-Hanging, carving, Gilding, Looking Glass & Screen Warehouse (tc); Paper hangings manufacturer (1793) Stationer Paper Hanging Manufacturer

Isherwood & Bradley (c.1786–93) Henry Isherwood’s 6 apprs incl. Nicholas Isherwood (bound Stats 1777, p-s, 1808–23 L. Hill, 3 apprs, LBT/19413, & Thomas Isherwood, his son (bound Stats 1786, p-h manuf, LBT/19414). Later N. Isherwood & son.

John Boover Brook(s), previously Samuel Brookes (bound Stats 1750, freed 1759, bkseller LBT/19110) John Brown

Bodeur

Paper Stainer; Stationer and Paper-Hanging Maker

Paper hangings; Papier mâché ornaments; manufactory, late 1750s–1765 Paper hangings manufacturer

Thomas Bromwich and Leonard Leigh (active in Bromwich’s by 1735, d.1765)

Bromwich, Isherwood & Bradley (by 1765); Henry Isherwood (d.1812, of L. Hill & Highgate, Distiller & house decorator, LBT/19416-AD) & Benjamin Bradley

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

Near Bell Dock, Wapping 39 Great Queen St, Lincoln’s Inn Fields 45 Cheapside near Bread Street

35 Ludgate Hill

The Golden Lion, Ludgate Hill

The Golden Lion, Ludgate Hill

Location(s)

1774; 1784; 1785–92 R 1768–74 1793, 1794. Maxted 1778–1801

1758

1793; R c.1785–92; Isherwood & Co.1793– 1818

1774; DEFM 1769–88 R 1767–87

1763; DEFM 1758–65 R c.1759–65

Dates

John Boover Brooks LMA Sun Fire Ins MS11936/410/670521 (1797, Fitzroy Square). Bill GL (James Duff, 1794).

Bills incl. Sir John Griffin, 1765 (Essex RO D/D By A23/4); Stationers Hall, 1765; Wm Blaithwaite, 1768 (Fitzwilliam P.12988-R); Mr Blathwayt, 1769 (Glos RO D1799 A364); Charles Long, 1769 (Suffolk RO HA18/EC/5); Mr Hall, 1770 (BM, HC 91.8). Other bills detailed in the text. Tc BM, BC 91.16 (1788); Henry Isherwood Sun Fire Ins MS 11936/392/613577 (1793). Bills incl. Lord Howard, 1786 (Essex RO D/D By A44/12); Lady Ann Conolly, 1788 (BM, HC 91.34); Wm Drake, 1792 (BM, HC 91.35). Other bills detailed in the text.

Handbill BM, BC 91.1; tc BM, HC 91.9; Bills Mr. Bennet 1765 (BM, HC 91.10); Edward Turnour 1759 (BM, HC 91.11. Other bills detailed in the text.

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Paper stainer (R also calico printer) Paper Hanging manufacturer (R also pasteboard warehouse)

Joseph Cox

James Creswick 1789–97, & as Thomas 1798–1830

Col(e)brand/Colburne (d.1743)

Thomas Cobb

John Buzzard

Paper macheee [sic] manufacturer (1774); Paper hanging and looking glass Warehouse (1784) Manufactory & exhibition rooms for paper hangings looking glasses etc Hanging paper (also paper for printing & writing) Paper Warehouse

Edward Canon; Canon & Buzzard

13 Red Lion Ct, Watling St 1789–91; 10 Basing Lane, Breda St 1796–1812

The Angel: formerly Aldermanbury & then Lad Lane, facing Milk Street Thomas St, Shad Thames

25 Warwick Court, Warwick Lane

109 High Holborn

109 High Holborn

1793; R 1792–94;

1793; R c.1786–1812

1745 R 1738 (Thomas)

R 1797–99?

R 1804–24

Edward Canon (R 1780); R. Canon (1788); Canon & Buzzard (R 1794–1801)

(continued)

LMA Sun Fire Ins MS 11936/361/558580 (1789).

Tcs: BM, BC 91.5; BM, HC 91.14.

Tc: BM, BC 91.1.

Benjamin Crompton & son (James by 1793); Mrs Joyce Crompton (widow Benjamin, d.1799)

Spinnage & Howard; Associated with Wm Spinnage, upholder (1770–77);?Ann Howard (1783)

Mrs Crompton (widow William) & Hodgson/Hodges (see William Hodgson) India & other paper for hangings (1770); Paper Hanging makers & upholsterers (1774) Paper hanging maker & upholder (1774) Warehouse (1776) Manufacturer (1793)

Warehouse; Painted paper hangings, Gilt Leather, India Warehouse, Turkey, Wilton & Kidderminster carpeting, floor cloths (1750); by 1756 also English paper, India, papier mâché Paper stainer and hanging

William Spinnage & Co

Crompton & Spinnage (fl.c.1753–c.1790): William Crompton (d.1760, succ brother Benjamin) and William Spinnage (d. c.1762, succ son John); partnership dissolved 1770.

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

Suffolk St Cockspur St (1777–93)

Castle St, corner Bear Street, Leicester Fields Gerrard St, Soho

St James’s, Haymarket (1750); Charles St, St. James Square (–1756); Cockspur St, Charing Cross (1756–70)

Blow-Bladder St, facing Cheapside

Location(s)

R 1770–92

1770–74

1763–65

1746

Dates

Bill Mr Turner, 1769 & 1776 (BM, HC 91.20 & 22); LMA Sun Fire Ins MS 11936/363/557451 (1789).

Bill BM, HC 91.19 (carpet supply).

Tcs BM, HC 91.23–91.24 c.1769. Bills detailed in the text.

Bills detailed in the text.

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Paper Hanging manufactory Paper Stainer; also Stationer & Paper hanger

Davenport’s

Paper makers & Paper Hangers Carver, gilder & papier mâché maker; William later floor cloth maker

Dobson & Hayward

Joseph Duffour (active by 1730, d.1776); son William (d.1787). See Jacob Simon, British picture framemakers, 1600–1950, npg (online)

Paper maker, Stationer & Flock manufacturer

William Demeza(l)

Evan Davis, succ. by Samuel Davis

Manufactory; Painter, Engraver & Paper Stainer

Matthias Darly (c.1720–c.1779, LBT/30166), m. 1781 Mary (pr-s, active 1760). St Martin’s Lane (1749); The Golden Acorn, the Strand (1756); 39 the Strand (1766); 159 Fleet St 1780–81. St Albans Street, near Pall Mall 90 Blackman St, Southwark 1785–1800 (dates Maxted) 32 Leman St, Goodman’s Fields; 75 Whitechapel, 1782–88 114 Wardour St, Oxford St The Golden Head, Berwick St 1750–57 DEFM c.1760–84

R 1801–12

Stats Co by 1792 (Maxted); 1793 R 1776–85; Bankrupt 20 May 1788 (Maxted)

1792

R c.1760–75

(continued)

Bill Lord Denbigh, Newnham Paddocks, 1756–58: Joseph 1757, ‘S Duffours’ 1758 (Warwicks RO, MI 416, TD94/10); Will of William Duffour NA PROB 11/1149/189 (1787).

Tc BM, BC 91.10 (Inscr.1791).

Tc BM, BC 91.31.

Tc BM, BC 91.8 (Inscr 1792, engraved Darly).

Handbill BM, BC 91.7.

Paper hanger & paper hanging warehouse

Royal Patent manufactory & exhibition rooms

Paper Hanging Warehouse Paper Hanging Warehouse Paper Stainer Upholstery & Paper Hanging Warehouse Paper Staining and/or paper hanging Warehouse (1774) Paper stainer (1793) Paperhanging Maker

James Duppa (bound 1782, d.1846, p-h of Oxford St, LBT/21342), father James Duppa, goldsmith.

Eckhardts & Co, Anthony George (patent 1771, active 1771–98) & brother Frederick (patent 1793); by 1786 partners with (Thomas) Woodmason

Woodmason & Co

William Fry Robert Fryer’s

Haden & Son

William Grant

Feilds

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

St John’s St, Smithfield

Nassau St, Soho

Mill St, Hanover Square, Pall Mall 3 Ludgate Hill 23 Aldermanbury

Old Broad St; 42 Lombard St (1795); Old Broad St (1801); late of Oxford St (1847) By 1792 Old Whitelands House, King’s Rd, Chelsea & (rooms) 8 Old Bond St 68 Pall Mall

Location(s)

1763

1774; 1793

1774

R c.1791

1786–90

c.1786–96

1793; R 1794–c.1804

Dates

LMA Sun Fire Ins MS11936/389/600570 & 382/592780 (1791, 47 Greek St).

Tc GL.

Tc BM, BC 91.14, inscr.1791.

Booklet BM, BC 91.12, inscr. May, 1793; Shugborough accounts (Staffs RO Anson MSS 1794–95).

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Stationer Paper stainer

Paper stainer

William Heath

William Hodgson [?Related to Crompton & Hodgson]

Paper Hangings Manufacturer

Paper Warehouse; Stationer & paper hanging maker (1774)

Jacob Hinde

William Harriman (freed Stats 1790, LBT/18823) Harwood’s (William, bound Stats 1747, LBT/21189) Oliver & Harwood. See Bowers

Harford’s (Samuel, active 1766, LBT/02639)

55, Bishopsgate Within, or Kingsland

Mill St 1759–63; The Eagle, 33 Milk Street, Cheapside 1759–63 (dates Maxted). Bankrupt 1772. 81 Upper Thames St 21 Old Bond St; Upper Charles St, Portman Sq; 11 Upper George St, Bryanstone Sq, 1798–1820 (dates Maxted) White Hart, King St 10 Well Court, Queen St, Cheapside 1787–1826 (dates Maxted) 1793; R 1789–1804, also marble paper maker; 1814–18 fancy paper manuf. 1774; R from 1772, later Smithfield, trading into 1810s

1701

1793 R 1792–94 R 1798–1802, 1811–18, 1819–c.1820

R 1754–72

Tc BM, HC 91.33 (c.1813).

Tc BM, HC 91.32.

(continued)

Battersea 71 Holburn Hill (later Shoe Lane)

Manufactory; India paper

Stationer; Mock India paper hangings manufactory Paper stainer

Montagu Lawrence

Paper maker & Stationer

Bookseller & Stationer

Thomas Lovewell (bookbinder-vellum; stat, bound 1770, freed 1778, 2 apprentices, LBT/17556). Father a watchmaker.

James Mackenzie

William Lovell (p-s, active 1794, LBT/28945)

Stationer & Printseller

John Kingsbury

John Baptist Jackson (c.1700–after 1773); prints sold by R. Dunbar Jones’s (William & Thomas)

158 St James’ St, West Smithfield, 1782–87; 80 Aldersgate Street, 1788– 89 (Maxted). 80 Newgate St, Cheapside

138 Fleet Street

The Globe, near Durham Yard, the Strand

47 Tooley St, Southwark

59, Holburn Hill

R wholesale paper & rag warehouse Manufactory

Edward Holmes

Location(s)

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

1770

1793; R 1797–1810 R 1779–c.1789

R trading here from 1767–83 1770–85; bankrupt 1775 Maxted. 1755

1750s

1793; R 1792–94

Dates

Tc BM, HC 91.40: stat & papermaker 80 Aldersgate; Prideaux Family papers: partnership Thomas Lovewell of Slaugh Mills & Richard Howard, 1788 (Plymouth & W. Devon RO 1049/2).

Bill Miss Harrison, 1802 (BM, HC 91.39).

Tc BM, HC 91.37 (engraved Darly).

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Oliver & Harwood

Moore & Gough (1774–85), associated with Thomas Gough (active c.1786–1831, LBT/18561) & William Moore (1785–93, d.1824, bkseller, p-s & stat, Leadenhall St, freed 1786, LBT/20392)

John Middleton (active c.1789–1810)

Joseph Knight ?appr to Thomas Dobyns

Masefield’s (Richard d. 1787 & Sarah)

H. Martin & Co

Paper manufactory Colour manufactory & paper hanging warehouse (later paper stationer) Paper Hanging manufacturers (1784 makers); William Moore ph warehouse (1793) Decorative Paper Hangers

Paper hangings manufacturers (& other household services) Manufactory for Mock India Paper Hanging & Papier Machée

1 Maddox St, Regent St

11 Great Bell Alley, Coleman St, & 6 Aldgate Without

80/81, St Martin’s Lane

427 the Strand

427 the Strand

‘Regent Cottage’, 134 Regent St

1774; 1784; 1793

R 1788–1819 R c.1792–1806 & c.1806–10

1763; R c. 1758 & 1780–1809?

R 1800s

Tc BM, HC 90.80.

(continued)

Handbill BM, BC 91.20 (1760s). Bill James Leigh 1763 (Shakespeare Birthplace Archives DR 18/8/5/66). Will of Richard Masefield, NA PROB 11/1158/16 (1787); Sarah Masefield LMA MS 11936/349/534867 (1787). Bill Mr Michie, 1788 (BM, HC 91.38).

Tc BM, BC 91.19.

Paper hanging & Stationary [sic] Warehouse

Manchester Paper Hanging Manufacturer Paper stainer

Ebenezer Palmer (bound 1789, p-h, stat, 7 apprs, LBT/21885)

William Paul

Pope (Samuel) & Mackellan’s

Henry Pinkcomb

Robert Pickering Paper Hanging Manufacturer Stationary [sic] & Paper Hanging Manufacturer Upholstery & Paper Hanging Warehouse

Paper stainer

John Owen

Mary Philpot

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

The Pope’s Head, Harvey Court, near Half Moon St (Bedford St), the Strand

42 Fish St Hill

16 Market St James’s 61 Cheapside

173, Shoreditch, 1784–1823; trading alone 1784–1817 & then as Owen & Evans 1818– 23, Maxted. 85 Cheapside (1799–1803); St Paul’s Churchyard (1803–05); Poultry (1806– 18); Fish St. Hill (1817–21) 21 Snow Hill

Location(s)

R 1734; DEFM c.1760

1793; R c.1792–94 1784–85

1793

1784

1793; R c.1792–1818

Dates

Tc BM, HC 91.44.

Tc Bod., JJC Booktrade Trade cards 5. Maxted: Patent for hinge for binding 30 December 1800.

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Stationer, sells ‘newest fashion figured paper for hanging rooms’ Paper hangings warehouse (1763 manufacturer) Bookseller & binder (sells paper hangings) Stationery & Paper Hanging Maker Paper Hanging Manufacturers

William Ridgway

John Sherringham (partnership with Thomas Martyn dissolved 1790)

Salte (Salt) & Baker

William Joseph Rogers

G. Rogers

William Roberts’s (d. c.1777)

Decorator in ornamental paper hangings

Paper Hanger (later Stationer & paper hanger) Paper Hanging Manufacturer

Jo. Pugh later William

Ralph’s

Paper Warehouse

William Pope

Great Marlborough St, Chelsea

103 Cheapside

139 Minories

Bible Institute, Within Bishopsgate

Pall Mall

108 St Martin’s Lane, Charing Cross The White Bear, Warwick Court, Holburn

New Exchange, the Strand 18 Blackman St

1784; R 1794–98, c.1801–20 1763; 1774; R c.1753–76 fl.1786–1802; R 1797–1801

1763

c.1755

c.1791–c.1801

1793

1755

(continued)

Accounts for Moccas (Herefs, RO), see text.

Tc Bod., JJC tc 5.

Tc Bod., JJC Booktrade tc 23 (95).

Tc Bod., JJC Booktrade tc 4.

Tcs BM, BC 91.2, 25 26 (inscr 1791, 1801).

Robert Stark (d.1783), succ. Johnston & Young by 1784 Paper hangings manufactory (1774 paper hanging merchant)

Paper Hanging Manufacturer Paper hangings maker (paper hanger, 1774) Stationer & sells paper hangings

William Smith

William Squire (active by 1749, p-s, gentleman, had apprs, LBT/05100-FG) & son Thomas Moses Staples (d.1778, bound Stats 1755, bkseller & stat, one appr, LBT/16026). Father woollen draper, Salisbury

Paper Hangings maker & Stationer

41 Ludgate Hill

Paper Mill, Lombard St

Rose & Crown, Angel St, St Martin le Grand Blackman Street, Southwark Three Tents, The Poultry

214/218 Piccadilly

Paper Hanging Manufacturers

Joseph Smith

The Kings Arms, 214 Piccadilly (1778)

Paper Hangings manufacturer

John Sigrist d.1799, patent held with John Harris, Edward Dighton (patent 1753) & John Lilley, succ. by Robson & Hale by 1789 Robson & Hale

Location(s)

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

R c.1773 Maxted 38 Paternoster Row 1778. 1774; R 1765–76; Maxted on Ludgate Hill 1764–65 & at no.41 1767–83

1763; 1774; R c.1760–86

R 1753–68?; Maxted 1768–77 1774

1793; R c.1790–1820

R c.1778–89

Dates

Bill head BM, HC 91.53; Bill Mr Vezean, 1782 (GL). Will NA PROB 11/1104/82 (1783).

Tc GL. Will NA PROB 11/1045/26 (1778).

Tc BM, BC 91.27; Bill 1760s, Gen. Schuyler (BM, HC 91.52).

Tc BM, HC 91.46; Bills Verney, 1809 (GL); Leigh bills 1814–34 (Shakespeare Birthplace Archives DR/18/5/7461; /8/19/33 & /5/7019). Tc BM, HC 91.49; Bill Mrs Massingbred, 1753 (BM, HC 91.50).

Tc BM, HC 91.48 (1770s); Patent BM, BC 91.9 (Leicester Fields, Green St,?1770s). Will NA PROB 11/1381/182 (1799).

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Paper stainer

Joseph Taylor, freed 1767, 6 apprs incl. George Briton & Cornelius Boyle (freed 1803, succ. at the same address, 1805–30, 31 apprs, LBT/22527). Father a p-s (LBT/22512). Adam (d.1792) & William Thompson. Adam Stat (LBT/29315); succ by Wm wh’sale stat & rag merchant, ?connected with R. Thompson rag merchant on Tooley St

Taylor

Joseph Styles (active 1742, stat d.1759, LBT/28918)

Stationer & paper hanger

Stationer; Machae & Paper Hanging Maker; Sells India Paper Paper Hangers. Also transparencies. Stationer; sells hangings for rooms Paper stainer

George Street (freed Stats 1775, 3 apprentices incl. Thomas Turner, d.1781, LBT/23163-AA)

Stubbs’s

Paper Hanging Makers

Johnston & Young

1 Hand Court, Upper Thames St; Dowgate Hill

The White Hart, King St, by Guildhall Charles St, Hatton Garden 85 West Smithfield

29 St John St

60 Gracechurch St

41 Ludgate Hill

1793; R 1792–94 & 1797–1802; Maxted 1788–94 (Adam)

1785; R Joseph 1792–1804

1785

R c.1742

R c.1800

1793 R 1783–c.1811 Maxted 1777– 90, also rag merchant

(continued)

LMA Sun Fire Ins MS 11936/366/ 566494 (1790); 353/542731 (1792).

Tc GL. Will NA PROB 11/851/45 (1759).

Tc BM, HC 91.54.

Tc, Bod., JJC, Booktrade 5.

Bill Mr Michie, 1783 (BM, HC 91.36).

Stationer and Paper Hanger

Paper Hanging Manufacturer & Stationer; Paper hanger (1793) Stationer: sells paper hangings Stationer and vellum binder, sells paper hangings & Maché ornaments, also hanging Paper hangings manufacturers, Decorators etc Paper Hanging Warehouse

Robert Thurley (stat 1774, 3 apprs, LBT/02812)

Bartholemew Tombs

Lewis Tomlinson

William Tricketts Appr. to his father, Wm Tricketts (LBT/15831, freed 1760, d. 1780) LBT/22673)

John Trymmer

J. & George Trollope

Trade(s)

Name(s)

(continued)

The Rainbow, Newgate St

15 Parliament St., Westminster

The Bible & Lamb, 124 Whitechapel Opposite Cock Lane, Snow Hill

7, Glasshouse St, Golden Square, Soho

24, Minories

Location(s)

Ambrose Heal c.1740–50

ff.1778. DEFM, 905

R late 18C

1785 R; 1774; Maxted 1784–89 (the Minories from 1778–92). 1793; Maxted 1794, Bishopsgate St 1796, bankrupt same year. Maxted 1776–83

Dates

Tcs BM, HC 91.57; Bod., JJC Booktrade tcs 5

Bill Booth Esq (BM HC 91.56); Letter book 1799–1808 (LMA BR/TRL/09)

Tc GL.

Tc BM, BC 91.28, c.1793.

Tradecard/bill/ insurance/will

Yates & Barnes

Edward Woodcock ?associated with Wm Spinnage Woollers

Richard Wilkinson (Stat freed 1757, LBT/23110)

James Wheeley acquired Wagg & Garnett, 1754

Richard Walkden bound 1724, 7 apprs incl John Walkden (bound 1759 d.1808, LBT/22773) LBT/22765

Richard & Thomas Turner (see George Street). Thomas Turner Master 1827–28; 1808–43 East Farleigh, Kent. Richard his executor; their father Southwark butcher. Simon Vertue

Paper Hanging manufacturers Stationers, Playing card makers, pasteboard makers

Nr Whitechapel Church 174 Aldersgate St

North Side of St Paul’s Church Yard 131, Fleet St

Little Britain and 25 Aldersgate

Ye Bell, London Bridge

Royal Exchange

Stationer Stationer (sells Paper Hangings for Rooms) & inkmaker Paper Staining and/or paper hang. Warehouse (1774); paper hangings manufacturer (1793) Stationer; makes & sells paper hangings Manufactory

23 Cornhill (1787); 13 Cornhill (1790)

Paper Hanging Manufacturers; Stationers & Paper Hangers

1773–76

1754–63

1768

1757

1774; 1793 R 1754–1812 at these addresses

Inscr. c.1750

1736–38

1793; R 1792–97, c.1799–1807

Tc Bod., JJC Booktrade tcs4.

Handbill BM, BC 91.30; BM, HC 91.58–91.60 (c.1754). LMA Sun Fire Ins MS11936/366/598892 (1792, 8 Sewell St)

See correspondence Ambrose Heal & E.A. Entwisle, 1943 (BM, HC, end). Tc GL.

Bill Mr Carne, 1799–1800 (Essex RO D/ DRZF36).

Bibliography

Abbreviations BM, BC British Museum, Banks Collection BM, HC British Museum, Heal Collection Bod., JJC Bodleian Library, John Johnson Collection Burney  17th and 18th Century Burney Collection Newspapers http://gale. cengage.co.uk/product-highlights/history/17th–18th-century-burneycollection-newspapers-.aspx ECCO  Eighteenth Century Collections Online http://gale.cengage.co.uk/ product-highlights/history/eighteenth-century-collections-online.aspx LBT London Book Trades database http://lbt.bodleian.ox.ac.uk MOL Museum of London NA PROB National Archives, Probate Records

Manuscript collections Adam drawings, Soane Museum. Ancaster papers, Lincolnshire Archives. Banks and Heal Trade Card collections, Dept. of Prints & Drawings, British Museum. Braybrooke papers, Audley End, Essex County Record Office. Clytha Castle Accounts, Gwent Archives Croome Accounts, Worcestershire Archives. Dyrham accounts, Gloucestershire Archives. Drake of Shardeloes and Earl of Buckinghamshire papers, Centre for Bucks Studies. Goodwood papers, West Sussex Record Office. Guildhall Library, London. Historic England archive, Swindon. Hoare’s Bank archive (C. Hoare & Co.), London. John Johnson Collection and Special Collections (Gough maps), Bodleian Library, University of Oxford. John Ring’s ledger, Hampshire Record Office. Leighs of Stoneleigh papers, Shakespeare Birthplace Archive. Lucys of Charlecote Papers, Warwickshire Archives. Moccas papers, Herefordshire Archives. Probate records, National Archives. Radcliffes of Hitchen Priory papers, Hertfordshire Record Office. Shelburne papers, Bowood private archives, Wiltshire. Trade cards collection, Fitzwilliam Museum.

Bibliography 189 Trade cards collection, Guildhall Library, City of London. Trade cards collection, Museum of London. Trade cards collection, Waddesdon Manor www.waddesdonmanor.org.uk. Trollope Letter Book, London Metropolitan Archives. Victoria & Albert Museum: Museum Archive, Blythe House (Registered files); Department of Furniture, Textiles and Fashion (Craftsmen and site files). National Art Library, London; E.A. Entwistle, Bibliography of Wallpaper (MSL/1981/3, V&A, National Art Library); Account Book, Manuscript, of a London Paper Stainer, 1789–90 (Special Collections 86.ZZ.140).

Printed primary sources Anon. The Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences: Or, Complete System of Literature. Vol. 3. London: 1774, ECCO. Anon. The New Complete Guide to all Persons who have any Trade or Concern with the City of London, and Parts Adjacent. London: T. Longman, J. Rivington and Others [1774?], ECCO. Anon. Britannica Curiosa: Or a Description of the Most Remarkable Curiosities, Natural and Artificial, of the Island of Great Britain. Vol. 3. London: 1776, ECCO. Anon. The London and Country Printers, Booksellers and Stationers Vade Mecum: Containing an Alphabetical Arrangement of the Letter-Press Printers, Copper-Plate Printers, Letter Founders . . . In London, Westminster, and Southward: Also a List of the Master Printers in Ireland. [London]: 1785, ECCO. Anon. The Merchants and Traders Guide. London: 1787, ECCO. Ash, John. The New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language. Vol. 2. London: 1795, ECCO. Aspinall-Oglander, Cecil, ed. Admiral’s Wife: Being the Life and Letters of The Hon. Mrs. Edward Boscawen from 1719–1761. London and New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1940. Bailey, William. Bailey’s British Directory: Or, Merchant’s and Trader’s Useful Companion, for the Year 1784. Vol. 1. London: 1784, ECCO. Beckmann, Johann. A History of Inventions and Discoveries. Vol. 2. London: 1797, ECCO. Bingley, W, ed. Correspondence Between Frances, Countess of Hertford, (Afterwards Duchess of Somerset) and Henrietta Louisa, Countess of Pomfret, between the Years 1738 and 1741. 3 Vols. London: Richard Phillips, 1805. Bonhote, Elizabeth. Ellen Woodley: A Novel, in two Volumes. Vol. 2. London: 1790, ECCO. Booth, Joseph. A Treatise Explanatory of the Nature and Properties of Pollaplasiasmos: Or the Original Invention of Multiplying Pictures in Oils. [London]: [1784], ECCO. Boyle, Patrick. The General London Guide: or, Tradesman’s Directory for the Year 1794. With a General Index to Trades. London: [1793?], ECCO. Bray, William. Sketch of a Tour into Derbyshire and Yorkshire. London: 1783, ECCO. Mrs Brookes. A Dialogue Between a Lady and her Pupils, Describing a Journey Through England and Wales. London: [1800?], ECCO. Cambridge, Richard Owen. ‘An Elegy Written in an Empty Assembly Room’, in Literature Online, http://lion.chadwick.co.uk. Campbell, Robert. The London Tradesman, being an Account of all the Trades. London: 1757, ECCO. Chippendale, Thomas. The Gentleman and Cabinet-Maker’s Director: Being a Large Collection of the Most Elegant and Useful Designs of Household Furniture 3rd ed. London: 1762, ECCO. Clark, Lorna J., ed. The Letters of Sarah Harriet Burney. Athens, GA and London: University of Georgia Press, 1997. Clark, Lorna J., ed. Memoirs of the Court of George III. Vol 4: The Diary of Queen Charlotte, 1789 and 1794. London: Pickering & Chatto, 2015.

190 Bibliography Climenson, Emily J., ed. Passages from The Diaries of Mrs Philip Lybbe Powys. London, New York and Bombay: Longmans, Green & Co, 1899. Climenson, Emily J., ed. Elizabeth Montagu, The Queen of The Bluestockings: Her Correspondence From 1720 to 1761. 2 Vols. London: John Murray, 1906. Coleridge, Ernest Hartley. The Life of Thomas Coutts, Banker. London: Bodley Head, 1920. Collyer, Joseph. The Parent’s and Guardian’s Directory and the Youth’s Guide in the Choice of a Profession or Trade. London: 1761, ECCO. Coventry, Francis. The History of Pompey the Little. London: 1751. Dean, John. The Rule of Practice Methodized and Improved. London: 1756, ECCO. Fergusson, Alexander, ed. Letters and Journals of Mrs. Calderwood Of Polton from England, Holland and the Low Countries in 1756. Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1884. Fitzgerald, Brian, ed. Correspondence of Emily, Duchess of Leinster (1731–1814). Vol. 2. Dublin: Dublin Stationery Office, 1949. Halfpenny, William. The Modern Builder’s Assistant. London: J. Rivington, J. Fletcher and R. Sayer, [1757], ECCO. Hannah, Gavin, ed. The Deserted Village: The Diary of an Oxfordshire Rector James Newton of Nuneham Courtenay 1736–86. Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1992. Home, J.A., ed. Letters and Journals of Lady Mary Coke. 4 Vols. Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1889–96. Knight, Henrietta. Letters Written by the Late R.H. Lady Luxborough, to William Shenstone Esq. London: 1775, ECCO. Lewis, W.S., with Warren Hunting Smith and George L. Lam. Horace Walpole’s Correspondence with Sir Horace Mann. Vol. 4. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1960. Lady Llanover, ed. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs Delany. 3 Vols. London: Richard Bentley, 1861. Meynell, Lady Mary. Sunshine and Shadows over a Long Life. London: John Murray, 1933. Mortimer, Thomas. The Universal Director; Or, The Nobleman and Gentleman’s True Guide to the Masters and Professors of the Liberal and Polite Arts and Sciences. London: 1763, ECCO. Nichols, John. The History and Antiquities of Canonbury House at Islington, in the County of Middlesex. London: Printed by Author, 1788, ECCO. Robbins, Helen H. Our First Ambassador to China: An Account of the Life of George, Earl of Macartney. London: John Murray, 1908. Robinson, Walter. The Landlord’s Pocket Lawyer: Or, the Complete Tenant. London: 1781, ECCO. Scott-Moncrieff, Robert, ed. The Household Book of Lady Grisell Baillie 1692–1733. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1911. Ware, Isaac. A Complete Body of Architecture. London: 1768, ECCO.

Secondary literature Books Ackerman, Phyllis. Wallpaper: Its History, Design and Use. London: Heinemann, 1923. Airs, Malcolm, ed. Baroque and Palladian: The Early Eighteenth Century Great House, Proceedings of a Conference held at Oxford University Department of Continuing Education. Oxford: University of Oxford, Department of Continuing Education, 1996. Airs, Malcolm, ed. The Later Eighteenth Century Great House: Proceedings of a Conference held at Oxford University Department of Continuing Education. Oxford: University of Oxford, Department of Continuing Education, 1997.

Bibliography 191 Adamson, Glenn. Thinking through Craft. London: Berg/V&A, 2007. Alayrac-Fielding, Vanessa. ‘“Luscious Colors and Glossy Paint”: The Taste for China and the Consumption of Color in Eighteenth-Century England’ in The Materiality of Color, edited by Andrea Feeser, Maureen Daly Goggin and Beth Fowkes Tobin, 81–97. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012. Allen, Brian. Francis Hayman. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1987. Andersen, Judy. The 18th-Century Wallpapers in the Jeremiah Lee Mansion in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Virginia Beach: Donning Company Publishers, 2011. Anon., Catalogue of Historical and Modern Wallpapers exhibited at the Suffolk Galleries. London: Central Institute of Art & Design, 1945. Aynsley, Jeremy and Grant, Charlotte, eds. Imagined Interiors, Representing the Domestic Interior since the Renaissance. London: V&A Publications, 2006. Ayres, James. Domestic Interiors: The British Tradition 1500–1850. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2003. Baird, Rosemary. Mistress of the House: Great Ladies and Grand Houses 1670–1830. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2003. Banham, Joanna. A Decorative Art: 19th Century Wallpapers in the Whitworth Art Gallery. Manchester: University of Manchester, The Whitworth Art Gallery, 1985. Beard, Geoffrey. Craftsmen and Interior Decoration in England 1660–1820. Edinburgh: J. Bartholomew, 1981. Beard, Geoffrey. Upholsterers and Interior Furnishing in England 1530–1840. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press in association with the Bard Graduate Center, New York, 1997. Berg, Maxine, and Helen Clifford, eds. Consumers and Luxury: Consumer Culture in Europe 1650–1850. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999. Berg, Maxine. ‘New Commodities, Luxuries and their Consumers in Eighteenth-Century England’ in Consumers and Luxury: Consumer Culture in Europe 1650–1850, edited by Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford, 63–85. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999. Berg, Maxine, and Elizabeth Eger, eds. Luxury in the Eighteenth Century: Debates, Desires and Delectable Goods. Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan, 2003. Berg, Maxine. ‘“The Merest Shadow of a Commodity”: Indian Muslins for European Markets 1750–1800’ in Goods from the East: Trading Eurasia, edited by Maxine Berg, 119–34. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015. Bermingham, Ann, and John Brewer, eds. The Consumption of Culture 1600–1800: Image, Object, Text. London and New York: Routledge, 1995. Borg, Alan. The History of the Worshipful Company of Painters and Painter-Stainers. Huddersfield: Mills for the Worshipful Company of Painter-Stainers, 2005. Brett, David. Rethinking Decoration: Pleasure and Ideologies in the Visual Arts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Brewer, John, and Roy Porter, eds. Consumption and the World of Goods. London and New York: Routledge, 1993. Bristow, Ian C. Architectural Colour in British Interiors, 1615–1840. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press in association with the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 1996. Brittain-Caitlin, Timothy. ‘A Papered History’ in The Cutting Edge of Wallpaper, edited by Cigalle Hanaor, 7–17. London: Black Dog Publishing, 2006. Brooks, Chris. The Gothic Revival. London: Phaidon, 1999. Bruijn, Emile de, Andrew Bush and Helen Clifford. Catalogue to Chinese Wallpapers in National Trust Houses. Swindon: The National Trust, 2014. Brunskill, Charlotte, Frankie Drummond Charig, Emma Floyd and Jenny Hill. John Cornforth: A Passion for Houses. London: Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art, 2016.

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Index

Page numbers in italics show that the information is found in a figure. accounting 2–4 Ackerman, Phyllis 5, 6 Adam, Robert 100, 101, 123, 126, 133, 141, 142, 143, 144, 170 Adamson, Glenn 8 advertisements: arrival of wallpaper 3, 19, 24, 32; flocks 91; India papers 66; as key to retail 53; mock India papers 79; newspaper notices 52; price points 48; Price’s 91; Stark 123; see also trade cards agency 107, 155 Alayrac-Fielding, Vanessa 22 ‘Albemarle’ pattern 92 Albemarle Street, Piccadilly, London 97, 170 Aldermanbury 41, 90 Aldford House pattern 21 Allom, Charles/White Allom 156–57 Alscot Park, Warwickshire 115, 116, 168 ambassadors’ houses 77–78 Ammerdown House, Somerset 92 Ancient High House, Stafford 96, 120, 121, 171 Anker, Bent 148 Anson, Sir Thomas 138, 169 Anti-Gallican Association 108, 137 apothecaries 3, 96, 120 applied arts 7 apprenticeships 4, 174, 178–182, 184–87 arabesque schemes 69, 133, 139, 142–51, 158 Archer, Lady 102 Archerfield, East Lothian 144 architects 67–68, 88–89, 96, 133, 134, 136, 143, 144 architectural history 156 Architectural Review 156, 161 Arlington Street, London 100 Armitage, William 31, 45 Armitage & Roper 45, 172 Armstrong, Carol 27 art history 7, 106 Arthur et Grenard 137

Arthur et Robert 137, 146, 146, 169 artisans 27–28, 32, 40, 41–42 artists: female 101–02; French influences 133, 139, 148; networks of 32; papier mâché 107, 109, 113; studies of wallpaper history 3, 7, 14 Ash, John 2 Ashley, Laura 162 attics 96, 98 Aubert, Didier 137 auction sales 53, 65 Audley End, Essex 92, 93 authenticity: India papers 65, 70, 71–72, 79; mock India papers 82; papier mâché 107, 113, 118; and the rediscovery of 18th century papers 156, 158; of reproductions 155 Avray Tipping, H. 5 Babell, Peter 116, 167 Bailey’s London Directory 45 Baillie, Lady Grisell 22 Baird, John 82 Baker, C.J. and G. 160 Baker, Ronald 160 banking 78, 83, 170 Banks, Joseph 71 Barrels, Warwickshire 112, 133 Barretts 99 Barrow, John 71 Bathurst, Lord 3 battens 1, 66 Bayly, William 90 Beckmann, Joseph 138, 141 Bedford, Duchess of 75 Bedford, Duke of 39,72 bedrooms: flocks 88, 89, 93, 94, 97, 159; growth of wallpaper 28, 30; India papers 69, 70, 71, 73, 81; India pictures 74, 76; London houses 49, 77; papier mâché 113; plain papers 100; stucco 117, 118 Beighton-Dykes, Rowena 49

204 Index Belvedere, Kent 1 Bennett, Mr 49, 96 Bentinck Street, London 96 Bentley, Richard 118, 119, 166 Berg, Maxine 11, 79 Berkeley House, Wotton-under-Edge, Glos 80, 81, 157, 160, 171 Bermingham, Ann 12 Berners Street showrooms 160 bespoke designs 75–76, 91, 118, 120, 121, 133 Biddulph, Ann 172 billiard rooms 76 Birch & Overy 41, 47, 172 birds and flowers designs 64, 69, 71, 76, 81, 148, 149, 156 black in printing 39, 117, 118, 126 Blackett, Lady Anne 124 blackwork 20, 28 Blaithwaite/Blathwayt, William 75, 111 Blands 48, 173 Blickling Hall, Norfolk 70, 168 block cutting techniques 20, 40, 117 block printing: arabesque schemes 146, 148; flocks 90, 96, 159; growth of wallpaper 22, 30, 32; mock flocks 89–90, 98; stucco 120 Blount, Lady 76 blue colours: blue distemper 71; cost of 49; flocks 90, 92, 94, 97; growth of wallpaper 22–23; plain papers 99, 101 blue grounds: arabesque schemes 133, 144; flocks 93, 96; India papers 22, 65, 81; landscapes 106 Blue Paper Warehouse, London 22, 23, 28, 29, 41, 47, 53, 90, 158, 170, 173 Bodeur, Mr 24, 174 Bolton, Duchess of 141, 142, 170 Bolton House 141, 142, 170 Bonhote, Elizabeth 69 Book of Wallpaper: A History and An Appreciation, The (1944, Entwisle) 6 booksellers 40, 45, 52 Booth, Joseph 123 borders: arabesque schemes 143, 144, 145, 146; architectural 121; black borders 76; classical motifs 127; compartment schemes 139–41; flocks 93, 94; French influences 140; India papers 68, 71, 80; with marbled papers 142; papier mâché 110; on plain papers 100; preparation and hanging 49, 50; print rooms 136; rail borders 71; suppliers of 134 Borg, Alan 28, 41 Boscawen, Fanny & The Admiral 30–31, 55 Boston Manor, Brentford 2, 125, 169 botanical drawings 71–72, 83, 144

Bow ceramics 89, 121 Bowers, James 173 Bowers & Co 173; see also Harwood & Co Brackett, Oliver 5 Bradley, Benjamin 42, 43, 45, 174 Bray, William 65 Brecon 149 Brentnall, Thomas 90, 173 Brett, David 6–7 brewers 3, 78, 83 Brighton Pavilion 138 Britton, George 173, 185 Broadlands 138 brocades 26, 28, 30, 91 Bromwich, Isherwood and Bradley 42, 49, 75, 92, 93, 111–12, 174 Bromwich, Thomas/Bromwich’s: advertising India papers 66; bespoke designs 76; country houses (appendix) 166, 167, 168, 169; Dalemain, Cumbria 65–66; Fawley Court, Bucks 76, 168; flocks 91–92; high prices 31, 48; India papers 67, 68; leather guilder/paper merchant 29; London houses 49, 96, 170; Painters’ and Painter Stainers’ Company 41; papier mâché 75, 110–11, 112, 113, 115, 116; prominent supplier 45; ‘Saxon blue’ pattern 93; South Audley Street 30–31; Stonor Park, Oxfordshire 65; stucco 116, 118, 119; town houses (appendix) 171; trade cards 25, 26, 41, 56; trade directories (appendix) 173–74; Uppark, West Sussex 92 Bromwich & Leigh 42, 74, 75, 97, 99, 112, 117, 167, 174 Brook Street 139 Brookes, Samuel 174 Brooks, John Boover 45, 174 Brown, John 79, 174 brown colours 117, 122, 146 brown paper 39, 49, 100, 109 Brussels 24 Bryant, Julius 133 Buckingham Palace 100 buff, as ground colour 76, 113, 117, 138; in printing 106 Bulstrode Park, Buckinghamshire 113 Burgage House, Wootten-under-Edge 157; see also Berkeley House, Wotton-underEdge, Glos Burghley 110 Burney, Fanny 57 Burney, Sarah Harriet 57 Burton, Neil 46 Bush, Andrew 22 business networks 41, 43, 51–53 Bute’s 100 Butler, Lady Eleanor 99

Index 205 Buxted Park, Sussex 161 Buzzard, John 175 Buzzards 57; see also Canon & Buzzard cabinet-makers 3, 38, 39, 41, 45, 68, 79, 117, 127, 132, 139, 146 Caffaws[caffoy] 9, 93 Calderwood, Mrs 24 calico 40 Calloway, Stephen 134 Campbell, Robert 90 Canada 82 Canon, Edward 57, 175 Canon & Buzzard 175 Canonbury House, Islington 27 canvas, hanging with 1, 49, 66, 75, 77; flocked hangings 29; chimney blinds 82 Captains 46, 65, 66 card makers 27 Cardigan, Earl of 92, 134 Cardigan, Lady 76 Carington Street, Mayfair 89 Carlton House, Pall Mall 136–37 Carnes family 78 carpets 42, 66, 145 Carter, John 114 cartouche paper 39, 49 cartridge paper 75, 9, 100 castellated patterns 91, 158 Cavalli, Msr 77 ceilings: ceiling ornaments 4, 108–09, 112, 113, 114–16, 142; fan-vault ceilings 116; India patterns 69; stucco 117, 121–23 ceramics 10, 22, 66, 82, 106, 132, 161; see also Bow ceramics; Chelsea ceramics Chalcroft, Anna 113, 118 Chambers, Sir William 170 Charlecote Park, Warwickshire 112 Charlotte, Queen 50 Charterville, Earl of 58, 89 Château of the Bishop of Dax at St Pandelon 137 Cheapside 45, 91 check designs 22 Chelsea ceramics 89, 121, 138 Cheyne, Captain 65–66, 166 chiaroscuro 117, 122–23, 125 chimneystops 82 Chinee Paper Warehouse, Newgate Street 66 Chinese papers 63–87; acquisition and hanging 64–68; arabesque schemes 149; Blicking Hall, Norfolk 70–71; colour 22; cost of 63; and the country house 12, 57; Hampden House, Buckinghamshire 71–73; historical focus on 5, 6, 10, 156; in museums 156–57; papier mâché with 113; reproduction 161, 162; Saltram House,

Devon 2; Winnington Hall, Cheshire 150; see also India papers Chinese temple 76 chinoiserie 6, 10, 63–87, 156, 157–58 chintz 30, 31, 44, 49, 76, 98 Chippendale, Thomas/Chippendale: as cabinet makers 5, 32; compartment schemes 139; country houses (appendix) 169; designing papers 132; flocks 89, 90, 91, 92, 96; Harewood House, Yorkshire 67, 113; India papers 68, 71; London houses (appendix) 170; Mersham Le Hatch, Ashford, Kent 44, 134; in museums 157; Nostell Priory, Yorkshire 89–92; papier mâché 113; plain papers 99; preservation of wallpapers 160; print rooms 134; skilled labour 42; see also Haig & Chippendale Chippendale Junior, Thomas 133, 144, 145 Christchurch Mansion, Ipswich 94, 97, 165 Chute family 50 circular rooms 143, 144 City Art Museum, St. Louis 158 Clandon Park, Surrey 2, 93, 94, 95, 98, 148–49, 159, 162, 165 Clarkson & Porter 29, 30, 31 classical styles 106, 107, 121–22, 123, 124, 125, 126, 132, 133 classicism and chinoiserie in tandem 77 cleaning of paper hangings 24 cleanliness 88; see also neatness Clemens & Co 53 Cliff, John 40 Clifford, Helen 11, 44 Clitherow, Ann & James 125, 169 closets: flocks 71, 92, 94, 97; growth of wallpaper 3–4, 20, 30; India papers 69, 71; plain papers 23, 93, 99; stucco 117 Clytha Castle, Wales 142 Cobb, Thomas 175 coffee houses 9, 58 Cohen, Michèle 13 Coke, Lady Mary 65, 100 Colburne 41, 175 Cole, John/Cole’s 125, 159, 161, 170 Coleby’s list 27 collage 28, 70, 71, 76, 144, 162 colour: applying in situ 47; colour matching 30–31; cost of different ground colours 49; distemper colours 22, 90, 99, 123, 148, 159; durability of 22, 81, 98; early development of wallpaper 21; flocks 90, 93; India papers 75, 82; inks 39; opaque colours 22; papier mâché 110; skills in 40; stucco 117; transparent colours 21; see also fading; specific colours colour-men 139, 140

206 Index Coltman, Viccy 136, 142 compartment schemes 102, 139–41 Connolly, Caroline 168 consumer culture, wallpaper as aspect of 10–11, 79 copper plate printing 81 Coquery, Natacha 79 Corbett, Sir Uvedale and Lady Mildred 165 Cornbury Park, Oxfordshire 69 Cornewall, Catherine 143 Cornewall, Sir John 96, 143, 144, 169 Cornforth, John 1, 7, 9, 10, 42, 121, 127, 145 Cornhill 78, 140 Corpus Christi College, Oxford 20 Coruzaci, K. 159 costs: arabesque schemes 143, 146; blue colours 49; flocks 91–92, 96–97, 159; of green colours 49; ground colours 49; of hanging 48–50, 117–18, 142; India papers 63, 64, 67; metallic finishes 138; mock India papers 79; and ‘neatness’ 89; papier mâché 112–13; plain papers 99, 100; stucco 116; styles 139; transport costs 113 Cotes, Mrs 89 cotton, printed 20, 81, 127 counterfeits 22, 89; see also imitation country houses: Chinese papers 155; consumption of paper 57, 58; country house paradigm 11–12; flocks 57, 94, 95; India and mock India papers 69–74, 83; list of principal wallpapered rooms 165–70; plain papers 101–02; and the rediscovery of 18th century papers 155–59, 161; stucco 121–22; see also individual houses Country Life 5, 10, 162 Coutts, Thomas 78, 82, 170 Coutts bank 162, 168, 170 Coventry, Francis 77 Coventry, Lord and Lady (later Earl) 49, 67, 93, 99–100 Cox, Joseph 175 Crace, J.G. 2 Cranford House, Middlesex 47, 160 Craske, Matthew 32, 42, 66 Creswick, James 175 Crompton, Benjamin 51, 79, 176 Crompton, Joyce 51, 176 Crompton, William 42, 51, 66, 79 Crompton & Spinnage: country houses (appendix) 166, 167; flocks 92; India papers 66, 75, 76, 79; paper hangings trade 42, 45, 51; papier mâché 42, 113; plain papers 100; trade directories (appendix) 176; see also Spinnage & Hodgson’s Croome Court, Worcestershire 49, 67, 92, 98, 100

Crown, Patricia 107 Cruikshank, Dan 46 Crutchley, Brooke 96, 120, 125, 171 Culham Court, Berkshire 63 cultural capital 72, 92 cultural dialects 66 cultural identity 119 Cunningham, Colin 141 dado rails 24, 26, 141, 146 daily life scenes 64, 70 Dalemain, Cumbria 65–66, 166 damask 29–30, 32, 89, 90–95, 98, 116 damp 24, 50, 72, 100, 111, 116, 138 Darly, Matthew 32–34, 53, 81, 82, 177 Davenports 34, 51, 177 Davis, Evan 177 Day, William 79 de Gournay 162 De Munck, Bert 64–65 de Saussare, César 24 Dean, John 48 decorative arts 7–8, 12, 89 decorum 88 deed boxes 20, 21 Defoe, Daniel 42 Delany, Mary 22, 28, 69, 76, 100, 113 Demezal, William 39, 90, 177 design 7–8, 11, 32–34, 75, 109, 132–33 diaper patterns 96 diaries 48, 77 Dictionary of English Furniture Makers 9 Dighton, Edward 81 digital printing 162 dining rooms: arabesque schemes 143, 144; flocks 96; growth of wallpaper 4, 26, 27, 58; India papers 68, 78, 82, 158; landscapes 124; stucco 119 directories 45, 172–87 distemper colours 22, 90, 99, 123, 148, 159 Dobson & Hayward 89, 177 documentation of collections 8–9 Doddington Hall, Lincolnshire 92, 116, 123, 167 domestic fabrication of objects 101 domestic spaces, public versus private 12–13 doors 100 Dover, Baron 57 Dover Street, Piccadilly, London 58, 89 drawing (and withdrawing) rooms: arabesque schemes 142, 143–44, 145, 146, 149; compartment schemes 139, 141; flocks 88, 94, 98, 159; India papers 69, 70; London houses 77, 78; papier mâché 115; plain papers 102 dressing rooms: flocks 88, 89, 93, 94; growth of wallpaper 30; India papers 69, 71, 75, 77; papier mâché 113; plain papers 100

Index 207 dropped repeats 72, 118, 125, 148 Drottinghölm, Stockholm, Royal Theatre 158 Drury, Mary Ann 70, 168 Duffour, Joseph 113, 116, 177 Dugdale, William 120 Dunbar, Robert/Dunbar’s 30, 41, 44, 48, 90–91, 92, 123, 173 Dunbar, S. 90 Dundas, Sir Lawrence 27, 100, 102 Dunham Massey, Cheshire 21 Dunster Castle, Somerset 64, 113, 166 Dupont, Henry 161 Duppa, James 43, 178 durability 22, 92, 98, 156, 159 Duras, Edward 137 dust 20, 24 Dutch influences 29 duties (tax) 46–47, 101, 132 Dyrham Park, Glos 75, 111 ‘Earl of Onslow’ pattern 159 Earls’ Hall, Essex 117, 118 early adopters 20 East India Company 64, 65 east-facing rooms 93 Eaton, Natasha 82 Eckhardts 44, 56–57, 109, 138, 139, 147, 148, 169, 178; see also Woodmason’s economy 4 Edmondson, J.L. 5–6, 38, 44 Edwards, Clive 32, 42, 50, 132 effeminacy 13 Einberg, Elizabeth 95 elegance 31, 69, 77, 78, 81, 88 elephant size paper 39 Elliotts 139, 143 embossed papers 39, 43, 44, 97 embossing of textiles 90 embroidery 20, 28 Emon, J. 24 en grisaille 124, 142, 147, 148 engines, in manufacture 90, 91 Englefield Green, Surrey 4 English Decoration in the Eighteenth Century (1974, Cornforth and Fowler) 9–10 English Heritage 9, 12, 160, 162 English Historical Documents 6 engravers 134 Entwisle, Eric 6, 28, 38, 132, 139, 157, 160 ephemera, wallpaper as 1–2, 7 Epsom, Surrey 26 Estèbe, William 82 Estèbe House, Quebec City 82 Etruscan style 133, 136, 141, 142, 144, 146 evidence, scarcity of 1–2 excise 46–47 exclusivity 65–66

Exhibition of Historical and British Wallpapers 160 exhibitions 160 exports 82, 93, 107–08, 134, 138, 148, 159 fading 22, 81, 123, 157, 158, 159, 161–62 family networks 41, 44, 50–51, 58, 65, 69 fancy papers 119 Farington, Joseph 133 fashionability, paper as a sign of 58, 88, 93, 127, 132–54 Faversham, Kent 118, 160 Fawley Court, Bucks 76, 156, 168 Feilds 178 Felbrigg, Norfolk 67, 71, 72, 158 female appropriation of crafts 101–02 female consumers: 3–4, 11, 12–13, 50; India and mock India 67, 69–74, 83; London houses 30–31, 77; and the paper hangings trade 42, 53–54, 55, 56 femininity 63, 68, 77, 78, 141–42 Fennemore, T.A. 160 Fennetaux, Ariane 101 Fetherstonhaugh, Sir Matthew 171 fiction, Chinese papers in 69–70 Field, William 142 fillets 110, 111, 113, 148 fine arts see high/fine arts Finn, Margot 155 fire screens 41 fireproofing 24, 26 Fitzherbert, Lady 158 flame stitch patterns 28 Fleet Street 45, 47, 91, 125, 134, 141 flocking fences 90 flocks 88–98; costs of 91–92, 96–97, 159; and the country house 57, 94, 95; early development of wallpaper 29; French 149; large scale flock designs 93–94, 95–96; manufacture of 39, 89–90; and papier mâché 116; patterns 44, 88–98; practical benefits of 24; removal and reselling of 158–59 floor cloths 42; see also carpets florals: arabesque schemes 143, 144, 148, 149; birds and flowers designs (India papers) 64, 69, 75, 76, 81, 148, 149, 156; borders 146; botanical drawings 71–72, 83, 144; flocks 93, 96; fruit and flowers 72, 93, 94, 144; India papers 69, 71, 75, 158; stucco 118, 122 flower pot motifs 82 foliage designs 96 Fornereau, Claude and Thomas 94, 165, 166 Fort, J.A. 159 Forty, Adrian 132 Fowkes Tobin, Beth 72

208 Index Fowler, John 9–10, 156, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162 frame makers 113 frame marks 46 France: arabesque schemes 143, 146–49; English papers in 137; flocks 93; French influences 74, 132, 133, 136–38, 139–41; landscapes 125; papier mâché 107, 108, 109, 116; Parisian hotels 136–37; print room format 134 Freeman, John 76 Freeman, Mrs 76 Freeman, Sambrooke 76, 168 fretwork 76, 113, 119 friezes 47, 140 frivolity 10, 77, 78 Frogmore House, Windsor 50 Frogner Manor, Oslo 148 Fromental 162 fruit and flowers 72, 93, 94, 144 Fry, William 39, 109, 178 Fryer, Robert 178 furniture history 5, 7 fustian 30 galleries 94, 98, 101, 102, 113 gender: female appropriation of crafts 101–02; and the female consumers 42; female consumers 53–54, 55, 56, 69–74, 77, 83; femininity 63, 68, 77, 78, 141; gender differentiation of spaces 12–13; male consumers 53–54, 56, 76, 83; masculinity 63, 69, 77, 145 Genlis, Madame de 137, 143 gentility 26–31, 69, 77, 118, 159 geometric patterns 71, 118 George IV (Prince of Wales) 100, 136, 139, 146, 158, 169 Gibbon, Edward 96 Gilbert, Christopher 134 gilding: gilded moldings 99, 139; gilded papers 138; gilded papier mâché 75, 109, 110, 111–12, 113, 116; gilt borders 100, 101, 116; gilt framing 75, 100; gilt grounds 65, 69; gilt leather 41, 42, 65, 66; imitation of gilded leather 28, 29 Gilpin, William 144 Girouard, Mark 12, 116 Glamorgan Street, Brecon 149, 171 Goodfellow, Lall 53 Goodison, Benjamin 76 Goodison, Judith 145 Goodwood House, Sussex 44 Goose Pie House, Whitehall 120 Gothic motifs 106–07, 113, 116, 118–19, 120, 127, 134 Gough, Thomas & Moore, William 40–41, 181

Gough, William 181 Goupi, Joseph 76 Grand Tour 106 Grant, William 45, 178 Gray, Charles 28, 171 Gray, Thomas 32, 93, 113, 119–20 Great George Street 141 Great Marlborough Street 140, 143 Great Russell Street 95 Greek key patterns 93, 94 Green & Abbott 158 green colours: arabesque schemes 146; cost of 49; flocks 90, 91, 92, 93, 96, 97, 159; green grounds 91, 94, 97, 148, 159; green verditer 99, 100, 101; India papers 75, 76; plain papers 99, 100, 101 Greig, Hannah 12 Grenard, René 137 grey colours: flocks 96; grey grounds 117, 121, 126; landskip (landscape) papers 106, 125; stucco 117, 118, 122, 126 Grigg, William 31 grisaille 124, 142, 147, 148 Grosvenor Square, London 111 grotesques 124, 125, 142 ground colours: India papers 65, 69, 76, 81; ‘modern paper hangings’ 133; monochrome offsets 106; paper hangings trade 49; re-touching of 92; stucco 117; see also specific colours Guangzhou, China 64 Guichard, J. 42 Guillery, Peter 118 Gwernhaylod, Overton-on-Dee 91 Haden & Son 178 Hadleigh, Suffolk 58 Hague, Stephen 121 Haig & Chippendale 144, 145 Halford, Robert 28, 66 Halfpenny, William 57, 120 Hall, Abraham 45, 173 Hall, John 173 Hallett, William 42, 68, 170 halls: landscapes 123; papier mâché 112; stucco 106, 116, 117, 118 Hamilton, Jean 9 Hamilton, Sir William 135, 136 Hamilton-Weston Wallpapers 162 Hampden House, Buckinghamshire 72, 73, 74, 125, 158, 167 Hampden VIII, John (1st Earl of Buckinghamshire) 72, 76 Hampton Court 94, 158 hand finishing 81, 116 hand painting 64, 75, 78, 81, 157, 159 hand-produced wallpapers 8

Index 209 hanging paper: Chinese papers 66–67; cost of 48–50, 117–18; flocks 91–92, 97–98; growth in role of paper hangers 132; journeyman paper hangers 49–50, 139; landscapes 125; neatness 88; rehanging of paper 155, 158; re-use of papers 92, 98, 155; skills in 49–50, 66, 68, 75, 99, 141, 142; techniques of 48–50 Hanover Square 46 Harewood House, Yorkshire 67, 132 Harford’s 91, 179 Harper, R.F. 157 Harriman, William 179 Harrington, Lady 124, 171 Harrington House, Bourton-on-the-Water, Glos 5, 124, 124, 159, 171 Harris, Eileen 141 Harris, John 1, 5, 81, 158, 166 Harrison, Miss 31 Hart, Mr 63 Hartlebury Castle, Worcestershire 114 Harwood & Co 44, 179 Haseley Court, Oxfordshire 158 Hassell, Edward 65, 66, 166 hazards 50 Heal, Ambrose 38 Heath, William 179 Heathcote, Lady Elizabeth 44, 139 Heathcote, Sir Gilbert & Lady Margaret 82, 98, 111 Hellman, Mimi 107 Hepplewhite, George 144 heritage provenance 161 heritage sites 161, 162 Hertford, Lady Frances 3–4, 55, 56, 112, 116 Hewitt, James 96, 121 high/fine arts 7, 57, 89, 106, 127, 133, 134, 140, 149 Higham, Mr 142 Hill Street, Mayfair 27, 57, 77, 82, 89, 117, 169 Hilliker, Samuel 79 Hills, Henry 117 Hills, R.L. 39 Hinde, Jacob 28, 179 Hirst, Mary (Lady Pepperrell) 126 historic houses studies 9 History of English Wallpaper 1509–1914, A (1926, Sugden and Edmondson) 5–6 History of Pompey the Little (Coventry) 77 Hitchin Priory, Hertfordshire 93 Hoare, Sir Richard 30 Hobart, John, 2nd Earl of Buckinghamshire 70, 168 Hobart-Hampden family 72 Hodge, Matthew 52 Hodgson, William 179

Hogarth, William 95 Holkham Hall, Norfolk 30, 68, 94 Holland, Henry 136, 146, 169 Holland, Lady Caroline 101 Holland House 101 Hollytrees, Colchester 28, 171 Holmes, Edward 180 Home, Sir Ninian 144, 145, 169 Hope, Thomas 6 Hornsby, Clare 127 Houghton, John 24, 88 Howard, Henrietta, Countess of Suffolk 68, 168, 170 Howbridge Hall, Essex 161 Hucks, Alderman Robert 95 Hunt, Joseph 52 Hussey Delaval, Sir John 116, 167 Hutton, John 28 Ibbotson, J.C. 140 Imbost work 28 imitation: arrival of wallpaper 19–20; Chinese papers 63–87, 157, 158; and eighteenth century material culture 11; English papers in France 137; European wallpapers 72; of flocks 89, 96–97, 98, 159; of French papers 140; and the growth of wallpaper 26–31, 58; of high arts 107; mock India papers 79–83; multiple imitations of a single object 119; papier mâché 108–16; of stone 141–42, 149; stucco 118, 119, 121–22, 148; of textiles 28, 29–30, 34, 49, 88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 95, 98 import substitutes 11, 63, 79, 109 India papers 27–28, 39, 63–83 India pictures 63, 74–75, 76, 82 inks 39 integrity of design 88 interiors, study of 5, 6–8, 9–10, 12 interlinings 100 Ionides, Basil 161 Irish brown paper 76 Irish Stitch 28, 91 Irwin, David 133 Isherwood, Henry/Isherwood’s 42, 43, 45, 144, 169, 174; see also Bromwich, Isherwood and Bradley Isherwood & Bradley 43, 45, 92, 174 Italian stuccodores 106 Ivy House, Worcester 29 Jackson, John Baptist/Jackson’s 96, 123, 124, 134, 135, 171, 180 Jacqué, Bernard 143, 144, 149 Japan papers 27–28, 64 japanning 27–28, 64, 65, 66 Jeffrey & Co 5 John, Eleanor 140

210 Index John Thomas & Co. 47 Johnson, Bishop James 114 Johnson, Thomas 108–09 Johnston & Young 112, 185 joiners 142 Joiners and Ceilers Company 41 Joliffe, Thomas 41, 92 Jones, Malcolm 26 Jones, Robert 127 Jones the Elder, William 142 Jones’s manufactory 34, 82, 180 Jourdian, Margaret 5, 134 Joy, Edmund 28 Kaulter, Barrett 107 Keck, Anthony 143 Kedlestone, Derbyshire 69 Kelmarsh Hall, Northamptonshire 157 Kempshott Park, Hampshire 146, 146, 148, 158, 169 Kenwood, Middlesex 71 Kenyon, Mrs 96 Kilnwick Hall, Yorkshire 67 Kingsbury, John 46, 180 Kingston, Duchess of 67 Kirkham, Pat 50 Klein, Lawrence 88 Knatchbull, Sir Edmund 99 Knatchbull, Sir Edward 44 Knight, Henrietta, Lady Luxborough 112, 118, 133 Knight, Joseph 49, 181 Knight, Richard Payne 144 lace 66, 94 lacquer, imitation of 27–28, 66 see also japanning Ladies of Llangollen 99 Lady Pepperrell House, Maine 126 Lancaster, Nancy 156, 157 landlords and rentals 58 landscapes: Chinese papers 70–71; design practices 34; India and mock India 76, 82; India papers 64; India pictures 75; landscape panels 121; landskip (landscape) papers 106, 123–27; in museums 157; print rooms 133, 135 Langley, Batty 121 Langleys, Essex 139 large scale flock designs 93–94, 95–96 Latimers, Buckinghamshire 119 Laura Ashley 162 layered schemes 140 lead 40, 110, 113 leather: gilt leather 41, 42, 65, 66; imitation of 28–29; leather hangings 5, 19, 28–29, 42; skills in 66

Lecoq, Mr 140 Leicester Square (47), London 170 Leigh, Hon. Mary 74–75, 113 Leigh, James 97 Leigh, Leonard 42, 174 Leigh, Lord Edward 74 Leinster, Emily Duchess of 101 Leman, James 32 Lenygon, Francis 5 Leoni, Giacomo 93 Lewis, Mr 141 liberal arts 7 libraries 96 life size figures 76 Lincolns Inn Fields 96 linen 30, 32, 49, 75, 91, 97–98; ‘Irish brown’ 76; and hanging n118 lining of chests/boxes 19–20 lining of walls 91–92 lining papers 20, 39, 49, 75, 92, 100, 109 Linnell, John & William 32, 42, 72, 92, 167, 169 Little Greene 162 Lombard Street 45, 51 London houses: and eighteenth century material culture 12; flocks 95–96, 97, 98; India paper in 77–78; landscapes 127; list of principal wallpapered rooms 169–70; paper hanging trade 57–58; plain papers 99–100; preservation of wallpapers 160; reproductions 162; stucco 117; see also specific streets and houses London Wallpapers: Their Manufacture and Use, 1690–1840 9 long galleries 94, 98, 101, 102, 113 Long Street, Wootton-under-Edge 157 longer lengths, production of paper in 22 Longford Hall, Shropshire 143 Longnor Hall, Shropshire 165 looking glasses 7, 45, 53, 57, 116 Lovell, William 31, 180 Lovewell, Thomas 39, 180 Lucey, Conor 7, 38 Ludgate Hill 25, 26, 39, 41, 42, 45, 109, 112, 123 Luxborough, Lady Henrietta 112, 118, 133 luxury goods: arabesque patterns 143; Chinese papers 65, 156; competition between retailers 66; and eighteenth century material culture 11; French superiority 137; India papers 63, 82, 83; paper hanging trade 42; town and country consumption 58 Lybbe Powys, Caroline 76, 156 Lydiard Tregoze, Wiltshire 159 Lyna, Dries 64–65 Macartney, Lord 78, 168, 170 Maciadi, Paul 162

Index 211 MacIver Percival 160 Mackenzie, James 180 Macklin’s Coffee House, Covent Garden, London 58 Maclagan, Eric 160 made-to-order goods 67, 112 Major, Thomas 134 Malaine, Joseph-Laurent 146 male consumers 53–54, 56, 76, 83 Manchester, Duchess of 4 Mandler, Peter 10 mantua 30; see also brocades manufacture: different trades involved 40–44; of flocks 159, plus more; handbill for 55; history of manufactured goods 7; machine production 6; mapping supply 45–48; materials and techniques 38–40; refined manufacture 8; reproduction of 18th century designs 160–61 Mapes, Philippa 51, 52 Marble Hill, Twickenham 68, 70, 162, 170 marbled papers 141–42 Marie-Antoinette 144 marking papers with firm’s names 44 Martyns 159 masculinity 63, 69, 77, 145 Masefield, Richard, Sarah and Thomas/ Masefield’s 49, 51, 55, 81, 112, 181; see also Knight, Joseph Mason’s Green 99 see Woodmason’s matching textiles 30, 79, 91, 94, 100, 136, 144 material culture 8, 10–11 materiality 8, 155 Mauny 161 Mawley Hall, Shropshire 76 Mayhew & Ince 100 McClelland, Nancy 5, 6, 159, 161 McDermott, Alyson 92, 159 McKellar, Elizabeth 5, 7, 12 McMillan, Archibald 39–40, 111 mechanical arts 7 medallions 112, 133 merchant traders 29 Mersham Le Hatch, Ashford, Kent 44, 99, 113, 134 metallic finishes 138 Metropolitan Museum in New York 159, 161 Meynell, Lady Mary 159 mica dusting 148 Middleton, John 139–40, 142, 170, 181 Miller, Daniel 155 milliners 66 Minchin, Humphrey 141 Minnikin, George 22, 28 mirror frames 111, 116 mirror paintings 76

mobile object, wallpaper as 2, 7, 10 Moccas Court, Herefordshire 143, 144, 146, 148, 162, 169 mock flocks 89–90, 96–98 mock India papers 30, 31, 79–83 Modern Builder’s Assistant, The (Halfpenny, 1757) 57 Modern Dictionary of Arts and Sciences 24, 39, 46, 109, 110, 117 modern styles 107, 132–51 modernism 7 modernity, paper as a sign of 58 mohair 91, 93 moiré 141, 148 monochrome colours 106 Montagu, Elizabeth 63, 77, 82, 89, 92, 117, 138, 169 Montagu Lawrence 30, 31, 79, 81, 180 ‘Montague’ pattern 92 Moore, Benjamin 43, 44, 45 Moore, William 41,181 Moore, William 124 Moore & Gough 40–41, 181 Mortimer, Thomas 27, 45 mosaic patterns 98, 118 moths 24 motifs: and the concept of style 106; cut out 76; repetition of 64, 94; see also classical styles; Gothic motifs; ruins moulds 39, 109, 111, 116 moveable object, wallpaper as 2, 7, 10 Mughal paintings 82 Müntz, Johann Heinrich 113 museums and galleries 8–9, 156–57, 159–61 music rooms 93 musical instruments 73, 114, 122 Myzelev, Alla 10 nailing up paper 49, 91–92, 97–98, 118 National Buildings Record 160 National Trust, The 9, 10, 162 naturalistic patterns 133, 137, 143, 144, 146, 148, 149 neatness 88–89, 127, 142, 144 Neo-classicism 132–33, 143, 144, 145, 149 networks 41, 43, 50–53, 58 New York, Metropolitan Museum 159, 161 new-build houses 58 Newgate Street 43, 45, 66 Newnham Paddocks, Warwickshire 156 newsmen 40 newspaper notices 3, 52 Newtimber Place, Sussex 135, 136 Newton, Revd James 48 Nichols, John 27 nobility 57, 99; see also specific individuals nomenclatures 2

212 Index Norfolk, Duchess of 30 Norfolk House 133 ‘Norfolk’ pattern 92 Norman’s 100 north-facing rooms 93 Nostell Priory, Yorkshire 68, 71, 77, 89, 90, 91, 92 novelty 31, 32–34, 57, 65, 82, 93, 107, 132–54 numbering of sheets 67 Nuneham Courteney, Oxfordshire, Parsonage 48 nurseries 88, 92, 100 Oakley House, Bedfordshire 72 octagonal rooms 143, 149 offcuts, using 109 off-white grounds 94 oil colours 123 Old Furniture 6, 158 Old Manor, Bourton-on-the-Water, Glos 121–23, 122, 171 Old Masters 123, 134 Old Park, Durham 93, 119 Oliver & Harwood 179 Oman, Charles 6, 9, 29, 157, 158–59, 160 Onslow family 93, 149, 165 opaque colours 22 Order of the Garter 148 Osterley Park, Middlesex 101, 110 Ouvry, Charles 41, 172 over-mantels 71, 75, 81, 94, 115 Overton, Henry/Overton’s 123, 134 Owen, John 182 Owen Cambridge, Richard 68 package markings 65 pagodas 70, 71, 121 Paine, James 32, 67, 170 paint scrapes 10 painted papers 6, 47, 77, 99, 100, 110, 125 painters 34, 72; see also artists Painters’ and Painter Stainers’ Company 28, 38, 41 painting in situ 118 painting over paper 100, 140 painting skills 81 Pall Mall 99 Palladian architecture 89, 93, 95, 124, 125 Palmer, Ebenezer 182 Palmer, Sir John and Lady Catherine 167 Palmerston, Lord 138 panelled schemes 78, 110, 139, 143–44, 146, 148, 149, 158; see also wainscots Panini, Paolo 125 paper conservation studies 8 paper stainers 27, 38, 40, 41, 43, 45, 52, 75, 160

paper warehouses 3–4, 139, 142; see also Blue Paper Warehouse, London; Roberts’ paper hanging warehouse papier mâché 3, 4, 39, 41, 42, 45, 69, 74, 106, 108–16, 125 papiers de tapisseries 21 Parliament Street, London 141 parlours 88, 94 parsonage 48 ‘Pastoral Scene’ cotton 127 patents 26, 138 pattern books 2, 41; see also sample books pattern design 20–21, 32–34 pattern drawers 40, 75 pattern matching 20, 48, 98, 125, 140 pattern names 44; see also specific patterns pattern repeat see repeating patterns Paul, William/Paul’s 52, 182 pawnbrokers 53 Paxton House, Berwickshire 144, 145, 146, 148, 169 Peltz, Lucy 119 pencilling 75 Penrice Castle, Wales 117, 143 Percival, McIver 5, 160–61 perfection 3 period style 107 Perkins, Vincent 157 pests 24 Philips, Charles 29–30 Philpot, Mary 182 Pickering, Robert 182 picture frames 111, 116, 123 picture galleries 101 pictures (framed) 74–77, 100, 102, 122, 123 Picturesque 133, 143, 144, 148, 149, 156 piece (length of wallpaper) 21–22, 91 pilasters 141, 142, 143, 145, 145, 146, 146, 149 pillar and arch 14 pink colours: flocks 94, 96, 98; India papers 65, 75, 76, 81; landscapes 124; metallic finishes 138 Pinkcomb, Henry 182 Piper, John 156 Piranesi 123 plain papers 75, 99–102, 118, 139 plasterwork 108, 112, 116, 117, 124 plate printing 81 politeness 88, 107, 137 pollution 24 pomegranate designs 93, 94 pomicing 100 Ponsonby, Margaret 12 Ponsonby, Sarah 99 Pope, William 79, 81, 183 Pope & Mackellan’s 182

Index 213 Porter, David 10, 63 Portland, Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of 22, 113 Potvin, John 10 Poultry, The 45, 107 powdering rooms 30, 69, 81 Pratts 156 preparation of the wall 99–100 preservation 2, 161 Price, Abraham 22, 26–27, 47, 53, 90–91, 95, 173 see also Blue Paper Warehouse Price, Mr 89 pricing strategies 46–48; see also costs Prince of Wales (George IV) 100, 136, 139, 146, 158, 169 Pring, Jane 51 print cutters 40 print rooms 74, 76, 124, 134–36 print sellers 134 printed panels 124–25 printed papers 159 printing papers 109; see also block printing print-sellers 40 Prior Park, Bath 76 private versus public spheres in the domestic interior 12–13 Privy Council flock 94, 159 proactive collecting 160 propriety 88, 137 protectionism 108, 137 Prussian blue 23, 93 public buildings, wallpaper in 9–10 Pugh, Jo 183 purples 113 quatrefoil patterns 120 Queen’s House (Buckingham Palace) 100 Radcliffe, John 93 rag paper 39 rail borders 71 Ralph’s 183 Ramsbury Manor, Wiltshire 168 Rebecca, Biagio 69, 135 recommendations from friends and family 44 red colours: flocks 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 96, 97, 98, 159; red grounds 76, 94, 106, 125 regional trade 31, 45, 51–53, 57–59, 79 regulation 46–48 rehanging of paper 155, 158 removal of wallpapers 66, 92, 155, 158–59, 161 rental homes 58 repainting of papers 162 repairs of paper 67, 159

repeating patterns: arabesque schemes 148, 149; dropped repeats 72, 118, 125, 148; French influences 139, 140; India papers 83, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95–96; landscapes 125; stucco 118, 121, 123 reprinted papers 161 reproductions 155, 160, 161, 162 reselling of papers 65 respectability 31 restorations 158 retail prices 47–48 retailing paper 53–57, 66 Retford, Kate 100 re-use of papers 92, 98, 155 Réveillon, Jean-Baptiste 137, 143, 144, 148, 149, 165, 169, 171 Reynolds, Sir Joshua 7, 170 RIBA (Royal Institute of British Architects) 9 Rice, Charles 6 Richards, John 127, 170 Richings Park, Buckinghamshire 3 Richmond, Earl of 44 Richmond Lodge 65 Ridgway, William 40, 183 Riello, Giorgio 12 Rigby, Mr 76 Rignaud, John Francis 135 Ring, John 146 Rise of Design: Design and the Domestic Interior in Eighteenth-Century England (Saumarez Smith, 2000) 12 Robersons 158 Robert et Cie 137 Roberts, William 41 Roberts’s paper hanging warehouse 14, 30, 116, 183 Robinson, Miss 141 Robinson, Sir William 90, 96, 97, 170 Robson & Hale/Robson, Hale & Hawley 48, 99, 139, 184; see also Sigrist, John Rococo: arrival of wallpaper 19; design 32; flocks 93, 94, 97; India papers 69, 74, 80, 81, 82; landscapes 124, 125; motifs 106; papier mâché 107, 114–16; sculpture 126; stucco 118, 121 Rogers, G. 183 Rogers, Meyric R. 158 Rogers, William Joseph 183 rolls of paper 54 Roman architecture 123, 142 room sets: for display of wallpaper samples 56–57, 78, 140; in museums 157, 159 Rosoman, Treve 9, 38, 41, 90 Royal monogram 46 Royal Theatre, Drottinghölm, Sweden 158 ruffs 20 ruins 106, 123–27, 124, 142

214 Index Russell, Archibald 157 Russell, John, Duke of Bedford 39 Ryall, John 125 sales of houses: descriptions of paper in 89; inclusion of paper in 58 sales techniques 56 saloons 102, 114, 148, 149, 157 Salte & Baker 183 Saltfleet Manor, Lincolnshire 158 Salthrop House, Swindon 165 Saltram House, Devon 2, 76, 167 sample books 53, 56, 140 samples 50, 53–57, 141 Sanderson 159, 160, 161 Sassoon, Sir Philip 157 satin 69, 139, 141, 147, 148 satirical prints 161 Saumarez Smith, Charles 11–12, 32, 34, 53 Saunders, Gill 10, 100 ‘Saxon blue’ colour 93 Sayer, Robert/Sayer & Bennett 134 scaling of designs 32, 94 schemes: arabesque patterns 142–51; India papers 64, 69, 70, 75; papier mâché 107, 110, 112, 116; stucco 119, 121 Schoeser, Mary 149 Schuyler, General Philip 93, 108, 113 Schuyler Mansion, Albany, New York 93, 108 Scott, Katie 8, 19, 27–28, 56, 89, 106–07 screens 66, 67 scrollwork 53, 74, 124, 143 Scrutton, John 68 sculpture 122 seasonal work 42, 52 second-hand papers 66; see also re-use of papers semi-luxury goods 11, 89 serge 90 serpentine patterns 94 servants’ areas 117 sets (of Chinese wallpaper) 63, 64, 65, 67, 70, 72 Shardeloes, Buckinghamshire 92 sheet markings 65 sheets, single versus longer lengths 22, 81 Sheffield plate 44 Shelburne, Lord and Lady [later Earl and Countess] and Lord Fitzmaurice 49, 77, 96 Shenstone, William 112 Sheraton, Thomas 5 Sherringham, John 143, 148, 169, 183 ship’s cabins 66 shop signs 66 shopping as a leisure activity 56 showrooms 140

Shrubbery, The, Epsom 21 Shugborough, Staffordshire 124, 138, 169 Sigrist, John 48, 81, 184 silk 30, 32, 46, 64, 89, 91, 94, 98 silvered papers 138, 147 silvered papier mâché 112, 113 Simpson Hayward, Mrs 123 Sitwell, Sacheverell 6 skills: block cutting techniques 117; craft skills 5–6; in leather 66; making fake papers 79; mock flocks 98; painting skills 81; paper hanging 49–50, 66, 68, 75, 99, 141, 142; papier mâché 109, 110, 112; pattern matching 140; re-touching of ground colours 92; specialist skills, wallpaper requires 58–59; women’s artistic skills 101–02 Skipwith, Lady 93 Sloboda, Stacey 7, 10, 63, 71, 77, 82 Smith, Joseph 30, 49, 184 Smith, William 184 smoke discolouration 138 Snodin, Michael 19, 107 sociability 88, 89, 96, 141 social differentiation of spaces 12–13 Society of Arts 44 Soho Square 92, 96, 158, 160, 170 South Audley Street 30–31 spare paper, keeping 67 specialist paper dealers, rise of 41 Sperling, Diana 101 Spinnage, John 75 Spinnage, William 39, 66, 171, 175 Spinnage & Hodgson’s 45 Spinnage & Howard 176 sprigs 44 Squire, William 45, 93, 107–08, 113, 117, 118, 121, 125, 184; see also Whittle’s St. James’s Square, Piccadilly, London 46 St Martin’s Lane 32, 139 St Paul’s churchyard 45, 53, 66 Stafford, Lady 65 stairways: arabesque patterns 143; arabesque schemes 146; difficulties hanging 49; flocks 95–96; growth of wallpaper 27; landscapes 123, 125, 127; papier mâché 112; stucco 106, 116, 117, 118, 120–21; supply 66 stamped patterns 28 stamping, as mark of regulation 46 stamping of names on papers 44 Staples, Moses, Elizabeth and Roger 50–51, 184 Stark, Robert 30, 93, 111, 112, 113, 123, 184 stationers 3, 38–39, 40–41, 45, 52 Stationers’ Company 38, 41 Stationers Hall 117

Index 215 stencilling: arrival of wallpaper 21, 22, 28; Chinese papers 64; flocks 90, 94, 96; imitation of European wallpapers 72; India papers 80; mock India papers 81; and printing 39; stucco 118; textile imitations 30 Stewart, Rachel 12 Stobart, Jon 53 stone-imitation papers 141–42, 149 Stoneleigh Abbey, Warwickshire 74–75, 76, 97, 113, 117 Stonor Park, Oxfordshire 65 Stourhead, Wiltshire 160 Strand, the 170 Strange, E.F. 157 strap-work patterns 26 straw grounds 117 Strawberry Hill, Twickenham 68, 91, 93, 113, 114, 116, 118, 119, 134, 166 Street, George 185 stripe designs 22, 49, 93, 117, 137, 141, 162 Strong Family, The (Philips, 1732) 30 Stuart 1 Stubb’s 185 stucco 74, 88, 106, 107, 112, 116–23, 126, 148 Sturt, John 23 style 106, 108, 113, 120, 139–41, 156 Styles, Joseph 185 Suffolk, Lady 70, 162 Sugden, A.V. (Alan) 2, 5–6, 38, 44, 160 Sulgrave, Oxfordshire 171 superficiality 10, 114 ‘superfine’ 65 suppliers, mapping 45–48 supply contacts, good 54 supply restrictions 65–66 Sutcliffe, John 168 swags 122, 125 Swift, Jonathan 120 Sydenham, Kent 58 symmetrical patterns 93, 94, 143 Syon House, Middlesex 141 tabby papers 141 taffety patterns 67, 75, 79 tapestry 21, 119, 137, 148 taste 42, 137 Tatham, Charles Heathcote 136 taxation 46–47, 99, 101, 132, 138, 157 Taylor, Joseph 173, 174, 185 technical innovations 44 tempera 80 Temple Newsam House, Yorkshire 9, 159, 162 temples 76, 77, 79, 116, 146 terminology 2

Terry, Charles 47, 141 textile handling skills, male 66 textile studies 5, 8, 160 textiles: imitation of 28, 29–30, 34, 49, 88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 95, 98; as lining 49; matching textiles 30–31, 79, 91, 94, 100, 136, 144; metallic finishes 138; models of regulation 46; and pollution 24; see also specific types of textiles textual evidence 2–3 theatrical effects 118 Thomas, John & Co 47 Thompson, Adam and William 185 Thoresby Park, Yorkshire 67 Thornton Smith 158 Thurley, Robert 186 Tischbein, Wilhelm 136 Titchford Park, Buckinghamshire 101 Titian 134 Tombs, Bartholomew 186 Tomlinson, Lewis 186 topographical prints 119 town houses 12, 78, 81, 96–97, 121, 170–71 Townesend, William 124 tracing techniques 32 trade cards: Blue Paper Warehouse, London 23, 53, 91; Bromwich, Thomas/ Bromwich’s 25, 41, 56; Charles Vere 82; Clarkson & Porter 29; depiction of sales techniques 54, 56; Didier Aubert 137; Dobson & Hayward 89; as evidence sources 2–3, 19; growth of wallpaper 26; Harford’s 91; imitation of wainscot 27; James Wheeley’s 54; John Sigrist 81; Jones’s manufactory 82; Matthew Darly 33, 34, 56, 81, 82; Moses Staples 51; novelty 31; papier mâché 109; Price’s 56, 91; regional trade 52; and the retailing of paper 53; as souvenirs 56 transparencies 76 transparent colours 21 transport costs 113 trellis-work patterns 30, 73, 96 Trent Park, Middlesex 157 Trevor, Robert 72, 167 Tricketts, William 186 Trollope, Joseph & Sons 23, 42, 50, 56, 186 trompe l’æil 118, 142 trophies 106, 116, 122, 125 trunk maker 20 Trymner, John 66, 186 Tufnell, William 139 Tuileries, The 144 Turkey work 28, 66 Turner’s 78, 140 Turnour, William 111, 112

216 Index unfurling, in advertising 54 unfurling, in selling paper 56 Universal Director, The 27, 45 unused paper, keeping of 67 upholders 38, 41–42, 79, 99 Upholders Company 107 upholsterers 38, 41, 79 Uppark, West Sussex 68, 92, 159, 168 upper rooms 69, 81, 83; see also specific rooms urban houses 12 Van Rensellaer manor house, Albany, N.Y. 5, 159 Vanburgh, Sir John 120 varnish 90, 91, 94, 96, 138, 161 vase motifs 82, 143 Vatican 142 Velut, Christine 56, 137 velvet 89, 90, 91, 94 verditer: blue verditer 94, 99, 100; green verditer 75, 78, 99, 100, 101, 140 Vere, Charles 82 Verey, David 124 vertical lines 140 verticality 93, 94 Vertue, Simon 24, 26, 187 Vesey, Mrs 76 Vezean, Mr 93 Vickery, Amanda 10, 12, 13, 23, 56, 88, 132 Victoria & Albert Museum 6, 9, 156, 157, 160 viewings of paper samples 53–57 Vincent, Captain 65 Viscari, Judith 113, 118 visual selectivity 123 Vivares, François 134 von Preussen, Brigid 109 Vyne, The, Hampshire 50 wainscot 19, 24, 26, 27, 88, 89, 91 Walkden, Richard 39, 187 wall ornaments 112 Wallbridge, Stroud 91, 125, 170 Wallpaper History Society 9 Wallpaper in Interior Decoration (V&A) 10 Wallpaper Manufacturers Limited (WPM) 5–6, 160 wallpaper studies, history of 5–6, 155–62 Walpole, Horace 6, 68, 76, 91, 93, 113, 116, 118, 119, 123, 134, 136–37, 166 Walsh, Claire 53, 54 Warburton, Anne Susannah and Richard Pennant 149, 169 Ward, Louise 156 wardrobe 69; child’s 28 Ware, Isaac 88, 108, 116

warehouses 3–4, 139, 142; see also Blue Paper Warehouse, London; Roberts’ paper hanging warehouse warmth, conveyance of 93 Warner, Metford 5 wastage 79 Water, Lenthal & Mayo 91 Watteau, Antoine 74, 125 weavers 26, 41 Wedgwood 132 Wells-Cole, Anthony 9, 10, 94 Welwick House, King’s Lynn 29 Wentworth Castle, Yorkshire 65 West, James 116, 168 West Street, Epsom 30 Wharton, Thomas 93, 119–20 Wheeley, James 45, 54, 112, 187 White Allom 156 white colours: flocks 94, 96, 97; landskip (landscape) papers 125; ‘modern paper hangings’ 136–37; off-white grounds 94; papier mâché 106; stucco 117, 122, 126; white grounds 97 Whitehall, Cheam 30, 94 Whittle’s 107, 117 Whitworth Art Gallery 8–9 wholesale markets 107 wholesale prices 47–48 widths of wallpaper 71, 95–96 Wilkinson, Richard 187 Williamsburg Inn 161 Wilton House, Wiltshire 98 Windham, Mrs 71 Windham, William 67–68 Winn, Sir Rowland 89, 90 Winnington Hall, Cheshire 149, 150, 169 Winterthur 161 Wisse, Geert 143 Witley Court, Worcestershire 112 Woburn Abbey, Bedfordshire 39, 65, 67, 75 Wölfflin, Heinrich 8 women: and Chinese things 63; as customers 42, 53–54, 55, 56, 69–74, 77, 83; in the paper trade 50–51 wood carvings 108, 109, 117 wood panelling 27; see also wainscots Woodcock, Edward 22, 40, 75, 187 Woodmason, Thomas/Woodmason’s 47, 99, 138, 139, 141, 178; see also Eckhardts; Mason’s Green Woodroffe, Daniel 76 Woods, Christine 5–6, 160 wool clippings 90, 159 Woolers 187 Woolley, Hannah 26 workshop practices 32–34 Wortley Montagu, Lady Mary 77

Index 217 wrappings (of rolls of paper) 46 Wyatt, James 50, 169 Wyatt, Samuel 149, 169 Yang, Chi-ming 72 Yarmouth sprig pattern 44 Yates & Barnes 90, 187 yellow colours: flocks 93, 94, 96, 97; India papers 65, 81; landscapes 106; stucco 118,

122; yellow grounds 49, 65, 81, 92, 94, 106, 118, 122, 133 Yenn, John 96 Yonan, Michael 7, 8, 10 Young Street, Kensington 125, 127, 170 zig zag patterns 28 Zoffany, Johann 100–01 Zoffany & Co 162