Wooed by Satinwood

“No fashion is meant to last longer than a lover,” British novelist and connoisseur Horace Walpole wrote in a letter to a friend in the early 1760s, as he watched the nation’s taste turn from the exuberant curves and intricate carving of the Rococo to the restrained, symmetrical elegance of Neoclassicism.

Britain’s fondness for all things Greek and Roman was prompted in part by ongoing excavations, begun in the mid-18th century, of the ancient ruins at Herculaneum and Pompeii—must-see stops on any British gentleman’s Grand Tour. This predilection was accompanied by an equal one for satinwood. The striking blond timber was imported from the West and East Indies via new trade links forged during the reign of George III (1760–1801). Available only in small planks, it was too expensive and hard to be suitable for carving or for use where a large, solid piece was needed. On the other hand, it was excellent for marquetry and as a veneer backdrop for the host of inlaid and painted Classical motifs—from urns and swags to griffins and garlands—that characterized the furniture of the period. These confections of ancient ornament and slender proportion were fashioned by a handful of skilled London designers and cabinetmakers. Scottish architect Robert Adam, who also collaborated with the workshops of renowned English cabinetmakers, including John Linnell and partners Thomas Mayhew and William Ince, to manufacture his designs, is often credited with reviving the Classical style, and his influence in the field was widespread.

Today, according to James Piell, a specialist in English and Continental furniture at Christie’s New York, buyers can pay anywhere from $1,000 to more than $1 million for antique satinwood pieces, which range from decorative boxes and delicate Pembroke tables to large breakfronts and secretaries. Piell notes that although Neoclassical satinwood objects come up for sale on a regular basis—at the auction house’s biannual English furniture sales, about a quarter of the lots feature the honey-colored wood—exceptional pieces, those in pristine condition with elegant proportions and a wealth of finely crafted detail, “are few and far between,” making the high end of the market particularly buoyant. In July 1992, a rare George III satinwood commode attributed to Mayhew and Ince broke the million-dollar barrier at Christie’s London when it sold for $1.26 million. The top and sides of the semielliptical chest, which is adorned with ormolu borders and capitals, each boast three ovals of painted mythological scenes surrounded by scroll, ribbon and foliage inlays. Works of this caliber may appear on the market once or twice a decade. “There weren’t many people who could afford such grand pieces to begin with,” notes Piell. “It was like owning a Rolls-Royce.”

More recently, in October 2007, at the auction house’s New York salesroom, another item attributed to Mayhew and Ince provoked a bidding battle. In addition to satinwood, the George III demilune commode, like many Neoclassical pieces, also featured other woods—here tulipwood and sycamore—as well as ormolu details and a painted central panel, in this case portraying Diana and Endymion. Estimated at $300,000 to $500,000, it was snapped up for $769,000 by a British collector bidding over the telephone. “Its quality and condition made it very much a collector’s piece of furniture,” says Piell.

Potential buyers also came out of the woodwork in March when a brace of George III satinwood console tables surfaced at Ivey-Selkirk Auctioneers, in St. Louis, Missouri. The pair was catalogued as made “in the manner of Mayhew & Ince.” According to Emily Eerdmans, of New York’s Hyde Park Antiques, whose book on the revival of Neoclassicism in the 20th century is slated for release by Rizzoli this October, “It is very difficult to identify the makers of furniture during the Neoclassical period, as most pieces were not labeled or inventoried.” Therefore the majority of objects on the market are catalogued as “in the manner of” or “attributed to” a particular cabinetmaker or designer—their value more a matter of the quality of craftsmanship than of authorship. “That’s why connoisseurship is so important,” says Eerdmans. “But when a piece can be concretely linked, that is, connected with a document, to a specific name, prices go much, much higher, especially so—though it is a rare occurrence—for Robert Adam.”