Professional Documents
Culture Documents
doi:10.1093/jdh/eps053
Journal of Design History Interior Decorating in the Age
of Historicism: Popular Advice
Manuals and the Pattern Books
of Édouard Bajot
Anca I. Lasc
This article calls for a re-definition of eclectic décor as applied to the private interiors
of nineteenth-century France. Previously, scholars of the nineteenth century have
separated two forms of advice literature, one dedicated to women as house decorators
and the other dedicated to men as collectors. By bringing them together, this essay
In or around 1892, the architect and decorator (architecte décorateur) Georges Rémon
(c. 1853/1854–c. 1931) proposed the surprising inclusion of a reproduction after the
Venus de Milo (late second century BC) right next to one after the Florentine sculp-
tor Giambologna’s Mercury (c. 1565) within a waiting room decorated in the style of
the Renaissance [1]. Rendering decorative schemes for modern dwellings, Rémon’s
pattern book, Intérieurs d’appartements modernes (Interiors for Modern Apartments),
also encompassed such designs as a Louis XV bedroom, an Oriental smoking-room and
a Gothic library, which, like the Renaissance waiting room, were decorative themes
already well-established within the revivalist canon characteristic of the nineteenth-
century’s historicist aesthetic.1 A student and nephew of Alexandre-Eugène Prignot
(1820–1887), who himself had studied under the chief decorator of the Paris Opéra,
Pierre-Luc-Charles Cicéri (1782–1868), Georges Rémon was in all probability the son of
Henri Alphonse Rémon (1819–c. 1900). Born in Hampstead, in the United Kingdom,
probably in 1853/1854, at the time when Henri Alponse was working on the decora-
tion of Cliveden House near Windsor, Georges Rémon appears to have contributed
designs of interiors to various publications up until 1931, the year in which he pos-
sibly died.2 Throughout his career, the artist published more than a dozen books and
exhibited watercolours at the 1885 and the 1891 Salons, the 1889 Paris Exposition
© The Author [2012]. Published by
Oxford University Press on behalf
universelle and the various exhibitions of the Union Centrale des Arts Décoratifs.3 An
of The Design History Society. All architecte-décorateur, Rémon had achieved wide public recognition by 1900, when,
rights reserved. together with Henri Rémon (possibly his father), he became the official decorator of the
1
Fig 1. G. Rémon, Intérieurs
d’appartements modernes
[Interiors for Modern
Apartments], E. Thézard Fils,
Dourdan, c. 1892, Plate 4:
‘Salon d’attente Renaissance’
[‘Renaissance Waiting Room’].
Image credit: Alfred H. Gumaer
Book Fund, University of
Pennsylvania Library. Copyright:
Public domain. Reproduced
with permission from the Fisher
Fine Arts Library, University of
Pennsylvania
The private interiors of the second half of the nineteenth century in most of the Western
world have traditionally been seen as assemblages of unrelated objects of radically dif-
ferent aesthetic values and backgrounds, amalgamated in one setting without rhyme or
reason. ‘Too much of anything from anywhere in the same space’ is how scholars such as
Rémy G. Saisselin have defined the so-called ‘bourgeois style’ of the nineteenth century.6
Displaying ‘accumulations of things’, from valuable art objects to mass-produced fakes,
imitation-furniture and decorative items, private interiors have so far been described as
‘cluttered’.7 Oriental objects set in neo-Medieval or neo-Renaissance settings, or Ancient
artefacts displayed in Renaissance-themed interior environments, have been seen as char-
acteristic of a bricabracomania thought to be on a rampage at the time. As a conse-
quence, the bourgeois interiors they populated have often been characterized as eclectic.8
Yet a study of the ideal private interior, as it was represented in French collecting and deco-
rating advice manuals at the time, suggests that a very strict set of guidelines governed
the interior decorating practices of upper and middle-class Parisians.9 Bringing together
two forms of advice literature previously separated by scholars of the nineteenth century,
one dedicated to women as house decorators, the other dedicated to men as collectors,
shows that rather than being eclectic, these interiors were, in fact, carefully orchestrated
decorative ensembles guided by the rules of historic revivalism and themed décor, which
attempted to create a collection of different times or places through interior decoration.10
Scholars of private spaces in the modern world have traditionally portrayed interior
decorating as the affair of women, and have separated it from the more serious pursuit
While historians of British material culture in the nineteenth century, such as Deborah
Cohen, have begun to acknowledge the prominent role that men played in the deco-
ration of their private interiors, scholars of nineteenth-century France largely maintain
the separation of public and private spheres, characterizing the home as a feminine
realm and the home’s decoration as a feminine undertaking.16 When they nod to
Before we move to an analysis of the written discourse concerned with the proper
arrangement of the private interior, it is important to briefly dwell on the social, cul-
tural, and economic conditions under which collecting and interior decorating manu-
als emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century. These manuals produced a
popular visual culture of thematic interior decorating that was a direct result of the
cultural changes experienced by the French population in the aftermath of the French
Revolution.20
Setting the stage
As cultural historian Rosalind Williams has explained, starting with the second half
of the nineteenth century, many more people had ‘considerable choice in what to
consume, how and how much’, in addition to the ‘leisure, education and health to
ponder these questions’.21 The steady increase in purchasing power was matched by
Anca I. Lasc
3
technological changes, which lowered the cost of existing consumer goods while pro-
viding entirely new ones.22 Cheaper items produced under the new factory system, or
with new machines, proved irresistible to a new society which was both financially and
intellectually ready to consume for the home. Yet the wide availability of objects and
decorative choices during the Second Empire also instilled among contemporaries the
fear that the French were not able to judge between good and bad art anymore, or
between successful and unfortunate decorative effects in their homes.
A new regard for the past resulted in a better understanding of earlier decorating
styles, to the extent that many attempted to perfect the reproduction of a specific
period style within their homes, by making all objects in a room belong to that style.
Indeed, ever since the resurgence of interest in the country’s history, starting in the
1830s, and popularized through novels, theatres and museums, French people of dis-
parate social backgrounds had developed a taste for the past and its material culture.
Before the publication of such works of literature as Victor Hugo’s Notre-Dame de
Paris (1831), or the formation of such coherent displays of antiquities as Alexandre
But if upper-class Frenchmen, including the new, so-called ‘triple aristocracy of money,
power, and talent’ (or ‘of the bank, the ministry, and mass media’),27 could afford
such holistic design schemes for their private homes, the common understanding until
now has been that the middle and the lower-middle classes did not partake in such
endeavours, because they lacked the knowledge or the financial means to do so. The
removal of the Bourbon branch of the royal family from power and its replacement by
the Orléans branch following the Revolution of 1830, with King Louis-Philippe assum-
ing the French throne, catalysed the emergence of a new upper class (‘the elegant life’,
or la vie élégante, as Balzac famously called it) from a peripheral position to the centre
of Paris’ high society.28 A new social class that had no blood ties to the old French aris-
tocracy, la vie élégante of the July Monarchy (1830–1848), enjoyed substantial wealth
and could afford to hire architects and decorators to design and organize its private
homes. The suggestion that less wealthy patrons could not have achieved similar holis-
tic design patterns in their dwellings is countered by a plethora of publications about
how to obtain the desired decorative effects with less rather than more means, which
became available to the middle and the lower-middle classes in the second half of
the nineteenth century, as well as by a growing market in antiques and reproductions
of antiques. Old fabrics, old pottery and especially old furniture were sold ‘aged and
dismembered’, including ‘panes and cornices, a head, a foot, the top without the bot-
tom, the door without the cupboard or the cupboard without its door.’29 Starting with
Writers and critics often commented upon what they called the manie du bric-à-brac et
du bibelot, and accused collectors of popularizing it, encouraging it and sustaining it.31
Invented as a category in the 1840s, the bibelot, an item of curiosity, defined an array
of goods, ‘from mass-produced trinkets to priceless collectors’ items’, including old fur-
niture, valuable art pieces, industrial reproductions, decorative objects and ‘worthless
junk’.32 The quintessential object of modern material culture, as Janell Watson calls it,
the primary characteristic of the bibelot appears to have been its superfluousness, or its
lack of any use-value.33 Knick-knacks, curiosities, collectibles, antiques and other objets
d’art, or the entire world of objects that could be purchased from dealers, merchants,
auction houses and the newly-rising department stores, fell under this category. The
Generally relegating the activity of decorating to women and that of collecting to men,
scholars have largely neglected the permeable boundaries between the two activities in
Second Empire and especially Third Republic Paris. Yet the concern with collecting and
decorating permeated different social classes and involved both men and women at the
same time. Domestic advice manuals, which provided guidelines on the management of
all matters of private life, including the bearing and raising of children, housekeeping,
and the rights and wrongs of interior decoration, also included suggestions for the selec-
tion and management of collectible items or bibelots.35 The lavish attention bestowed
by scholars upon such treatises makes it easy to overlook how men, too, were subject
to interior decorating advice. Manuals of advice on collecting instructed their readership
on how to arrange one’s collectibles in one’s home, including furniture and decorative
objects. Thus, not only was there a permeability of boundaries between collecting and
decorating at the time, but critics who wrote about one activity also wrote about the
other.
Anca I. Lasc
5
Today, when everybody, regardless of social standing, seeks to relax from the
strain of every-day work in the calm of his home, le chez-soi has ceased to be the
monotonous [. . .] environment of earlier times. [. . .] the human being [. . .] has
been pushed to desire that the four walls of his home be agreeable, pleasing and
entertaining for the eyes; and this surrounding décor he has searched and natu-
rally found in the object of pure art, or in that of the industrial art, which is more
accessible to everyone.37
Blondel’s art for the home, or ‘l’art intime’ (private art) as he called it, knew no lim-
its: paintings, watercolours, drawings and prints, sculptures, busts, groups and reliefs,
bronzes, marbles, terracottas, ceramics, earthenware, porcelains or biscuits, enamels,
miniatures, boxes and fans—all received equal attention in the pages of his book.38
Mechanical reproductions of original works of art, such as those commercialized by
the Maison Barbedienne and obtained through mathematically-precise reductions
of established masterpieces at a pre-determined scale were also praised.39 Ancient
works such as the Venus de Milo, one of the most publicized archaeological discover-
ies of the nineteenth century, and on display in the Louvre at the time, or Paul Dubois’
Together, these ‘thousand and one objects of art and curiosity’, disparagingly called
bibelots, were the finery of the furniture assembled in various rooms of the home.
They completed the furnishings, embellished them, and contributed to the general
atmosphere of the house.41 But this profusion of objects had no value when taken
on their own. The importance of each and every object on display lay in the coher-
ence of the final ensemble, furniture and collectibles included. A bronze, a watercol-
our, a terracotta, a Venetian chalice, a genre painting, unrelated as they may seem,
formed a single whole. ‘Unite them,’ Blondel urged his readers, ‘skilfully bring them
together in the middle of a surrounding which shall serve as their frame and shall
enable them to mutually assert each other.’42 Disparaged by some, the bibelot (l’art
intime par excellence) became the building-block of nineteenth-century interiors for
others.
Indeed, the critic, art historian and fine-arts inspector Henry Havard (1838–1921)
pointed out how the distinction between the beaux-arts on the one hand and the
arts décoratifs or the so-called ‘industrial arts’ on the other made no sense to nine-
teenth-century French citizens: ‘it would be impolite to pretend that the painting
hung in a drawing room [salon], the sculpture placed in a garden, or the bust ornat-
ing a staircase do not decorate this wall, this stairway, this garden, this drawing
room.’43 Havard’s assertion was taken one step further by the nineteenth-century
writer Auguste Luchet, who expanded the definition of ‘furniture’ so as to include
per se all items of interior decoration. According to Luchet, furniture included eve-
rything that served ‘to fill and adorn a house, without being part of it.’44 Thus, ‘a
painting is a piece of furniture; a sculpture is a piece of furniture; the rock-crystal
chandelier of the throne-room at Fontainebleau [. . .] is a piece of furniture; all the
bronzes, all the metalwork, all the jewellery, all the enamels, almost all the marbles,
all Sèvres, all Dresse, China, and japonismes are furniture.’45 So, by dissolving the
boundaries between the ‘high’ and the ‘decorative’ arts, now all subsumed under
the general category of ‘furniture’, the ‘collectible’, or, more generally, the ‘bibelot’,
nineteenth-century French critics appear to have consistently blurred the boundaries
between collecting and decorating.
Anca I. Lasc
7
Thus, as Spire Blondel would advise about a decade later not to stray from the conse-
crated rules of proper decoration and not to amass object upon object in a desire to
obtain magnificence at the risk of sacrificing good taste, so the Comtesse de Bassanville
warned her readers that ‘combining furnishings and decorations in the style of Louis
XV with furnishings and decorations in the style of Louis XIV or Louis XVI would create
a dissonance of the worst possible taste.’56 Such mistakes as placing a plaster-cast of
Michelangelo’s Moses in a Louis XV boudoir filled with Sèvres porcelains and Saxony
celadons had absolutely to be avoided.57 The interior decoration scheme of an indi-
vidual room was considered by such prescriptive literature as a total work of art, and
obtained through the coordination of all the objects within it; particular attention had
to be paid to staying within the pre-established ‘style’ or ‘theme’ chosen, or what
Deville had called the ‘principle’ behind any decorative ensemble. Applied everywhere,
this common rule was to be reflected not least in the choice of fabrics used in the
upholstering of furniture. As one critic would later assert, ‘beware to never commit the
outrageous mistake of covering furniture of a well-defined style with a material that
has no style at all or which displays an entirely different style.’58
The overall attempt to abide by the rules of historic revivalism meant that by the begin-
ning of the twentieth century taste educators even advised against introducing a
newly-made copy of an object from the past into a room that attempted to successfully
recreate the atmosphere of that epoch, unless the object were made to show its age.
Thus, ‘never install a brand-new Louis XIV chair in your drawing-room,’ they argued;
rather, ‘insist that it display the patina of time [. . .] or of the dealer in secondhand
goods.’61 The desire for historical accuracy went even as far as to have the authors
recommend the use of purposefully-aged copies of old furniture pieces. Advisors urged
readers to go to museums to find good examples of old furniture they could imitate
in their rooms and to learn the general appearance of a specific style from the past
in order to explain the latter’s specificities to their chosen decorators.62 A visit to the
Apollo Gallery at the Louvre would reveal the correct form and shape of furniture
pieces by André-Charles Boulle (1642–1732); one to the Garde-meuble would provide
examples of tapestries and draperies from the time of Louis XV or Louis XVI; while a
visit to the Musée de Cluny would familiarize the viewer with furniture objects from
the Middle Ages.63
How, then, given this plethora of advice about harmonious decorating, can one explain
choices such as Rémon’s of placing Greek antiques within Renaissance interiors and
thus apparently committing an anachronism of the worst possible kind? The answer
lies in an 1876 book published posthumously by the art historian and collector Albert
Jacquemart (1808–1875).64 Titled Histoire du mobilier: Recherches et notes sur les
objets d’art qui peuvent composer l’ameublement et les collections de l’homme du
monde et du curieux (A History of Furniture: Research and Notes on the Art Objects
That Can Compose the Furnishings and Collections of the Man of the World and of the
Jacquemart took historicist furnishings as his point of departure and explained to his
avowed male readership of collectors and curieux how recreating a truly accurate his-
toric interior (furniture and art objects included) was a complicated matter once origi-
nal furniture pieces could not be procured anymore. A collector himself, Jacquemart
did not approve of altering or adapting old furniture to suit modern needs or of using
modern imitations in lieu of originals to complete room ensembles. Thus, he offered
a new solution to the problem of historical accuracy: rather than using imitations or
ill-arranged adaptations of old furniture to create an accurate ensemble d’epoque,
the young collector and head of the modern household in search of a historic décor
could introduce ‘oriental’ objects, antiques and rich carpets in the historical interiors
Anca I. Lasc
9
style. As she explained, oak furnishings were last encountered in Europe during the
reign of Louis XIII. Therefore, everything in the room had to be reminiscent of the sev-
enteenth century: walls could not be covered in painted paper but must use real wood,
leather, or good imitations of either of the two; and, rather than paintings, pottery had
to hang on the walls.71 Particular attention had to be paid to the kind of pottery cho-
sen for display. As the Comtesse explained, ‘when one wants to stick to historic truth
[. . .], these plates must be earthenware: [. . .] porcelain, not having been discovered in
Europe until the beginning of the eighteenth century, it would be an anachronism to
mix Sèvres porcelain from the times of Louis XV with furnishings reminding the reign
of a Valois.‘72
The preoccupation with maintaining historical accuracy in the decoration of one’s pri-
vate interior was a larger phenomenon and spurred numerous debates throughout
the Western world. Although France had long been considered the leader of taste and
dominated the market for decorative arts and luxury objects, it was not the only nation
in the nineteenth century that attempted to create historically-accurate or exotically-
inspired harmonious interior decorating schemes. With the rise of nation-states at the
time, each European culture began searching in its own past the inspiration for new
decorative themes. Thus Old English, Altdeutsch, or Old Colonial were interior decorat-
ing styles that flourished in Britain, Germany, and the United States, respectively, along
with traditional French styles like Louis XIII, Louis XIV, or Louis XV.74 French decorators,
too, sometimes made distinctions between English, French and Italian Renaissance
interiors, while also proposing modern ‘English’ bathrooms or study cabinets.75
Besides the various eras of history, the world thus also was a large pool from which
new styles and themes could be chosen.76 And the concern for historical accuracy
in interior décor was shared by most Western countries. In Britain, for instance, Mrs
Haweis advised against the inclusion of objects produced by Victorian manufacturers
in a room furnished in the Georgian style. Similarly, early English artworks had no place
in a Japanese-styled room.77 Writing after the Comtesse de Bassanville, Haweis also
warned her readers that ‘Chinese art would be fish-out-of-waterish in an early English
home’, since China was not open to the West until the sixteenth century, and modern
Chinese work, especially, ‘would dispel the illusion of antiquity, and at once betray that
the room was spurious.’78 Unlike French advisors, however, British authors, including
Mrs Haweis, found ‘eclectic’ room arrangements preferable to those decorated in a
Agreement was, however, not easily reached, since some advisors wanted to push
historical authenticity to its limits. If the artist and decorator G. Félix Lenoir suggested
that the salon could be decorated in all styles and fashions, ‘the correct rendering of
which makes the originality or style of value,’87 Henry Havard argued that some styles
did not fit as well in any room. For example, in a feudal mansion from the Middle
Ages, or in an antique villa, there had been no such thing as a reception room. Only
Anca I. Lasc
11
with the beginning of the reign of François I, when women finally had access to the
court, would one witness the birth of the salon as understood in the nineteenth cen-
tury.88 ‘Let’s limit to the last three centuries,’ Havard explained, ‘the series of mod-
els and examples borrowed from past epochs’ that could serve as patterns for this
room.89 Similarly, given that one would rarely have encountered bathrooms during the
Renaissance, the seventeenth, or even the eighteenth centuries, when running water
was still a luxury and one relied on one’s servants to provide it (if one washed at all), it
made no sense to decorate nineteenth-century bathrooms in royal styles. The Roman
thermal hot springs or the Turkish baths would provide better examples if one wanted
to maintain a semblance of historical precision.90
If historical accuracy was desirable in the salon and the bathroom, it was no less
desirable in the billiard room or in the smoking room. According to the Comtesse de
Bassanville, the smoking room was better set off by furniture, carpets and upholstery
designed in an Eastern style, as it was in the East that one could ‘better comprehend
the appeal of dreams created amidst clouds of tobacco smoke.’91 Furthermore, should
One was discouraged to repeat the same style more than once in the decoration of dif-
ferent rooms belonging to one apartment. As Mme Daniel Lesueur would later empha-
size, should one choose the eighteenth century for the petit salon, one could reserve
the Louis XIV style or that of the Renaissance for the salon.94 Only when the two rooms
were contiguous, and opened up as a single large room, should they be decorated
in the same style.95 The specific attention paid to what style could go in each room
pointed not only to a preference for historical accuracy in decoration but also to a
desire to not repeat the same theme twice. As it generally made no sense for a collector
to possess objects that were alike, so it made no sense for the nineteenth-century indi-
vidual who decorated his or her home to have two rooms in the same style. Thus, one
can easily conclude that decorating was at the time a specific kind of collecting, but
one which was concerned with the whole apartment or house rather than with each
object displayed in part. One collected the world as much as one collected the past or
worlds of fiction; and one created a museum of themes and styles in one’s home as a
sequence of all-surrounding environments.
Henry Havard evoked the impression that nineteenth-century private interiors made
on contemporary viewers when he stated that an apartment allowed the dining room
to contradict the salon, thus creating the impression of crossing two centuries when
moving from one room to the next.96 Seen as a ‘disorderly passion’ that had taken over
the Parisian population in the aftermath of the 1848 Revolution and the installation
of the Second Empire, this desire to have a Medieval, a Renaissance, a Louis XIV, Louis
XV, Louis XVI, as well as a Neo-Greek environment in one’s apartment transformed
nineteenth-century apartments into private collections of some sort.97 ‘It is not [. . .]
the inspiration found in a particular moment from the past that constitutes the dis-
tinctive character of our epoch,’ Havard continued; rather, ‘it is the fact of not having
renounced [. . .] any of our earlier preoccupations; of having brought into the present
not two, not three, but five or six styles that respond more or less precisely to our per-
sonal needs.’98 So the nineteenth-century home functioned like a meta-collection, just
like the universal expositions did.
Anca I. Lasc
13
decorator working from Bajot’s models could thus have eas-
ily manufactured or commissioned any of these items and
could have included them in his own work so as to create
a historically-accurate, themed architectural ensemble. The
book operated as a practical guide and visually illustrated
how the theoretical principles set forth in writing by deco-
rating advisors could be applied to real interiors. By 1893,
when the publishing house of Édouard Rouveyre partici-
pated at the World’s Fair in Chicago, Bajot’s Les Styles dans
la maison française had achieved the status of a classic. Its
value was compared to that of Henry Havard’s Grammaire
de l’ameublement, which, as we have already seen, was
recommended reading for all parties interested in home
decorating.107
The colour of the epoch was thus introduced in even the smallest details. Whoever
desired to display a Renaissance or a Gothic library in his or her home had to be well-
versed in the history of the specific period cited. Before becoming a successful decora-
tor, one had to be a thriving antiquarian. One had to know what kinds of books had
been used and when, what their format had been, as well as how they had been
employed. One had to make concessions to the period chosen and eliminate anachro-
nisms from one’s interior setting: books rarely belonged in a Gothic room dedicated to
manuscripts (if at all) and large folios were usually preferred in a Renaissance-themed
library. Once collectibles were added to the room, the nineteenth-century inhabitant
was imaginarily transported to the age of curiosity and frivolity that characterized the
eighteenth century of philosophers.
Like Rémon shortly after, Bajot, in his c. 1884 publication Intérieurs d’appartements
meublés, employed sculptural reproductions of figures from classical mythology to
render a Louis XIII interior [6]. A reversed copy of Apollo Belvedere can be seen in
the foreground on the left, while a possible replica of Jean-Antoine Houdon’s much
later marble statue of the Greek goddess Diana (c. 1776) poses as its pendant in the
background.115 The Renaissance obsession with antiquity and classical mythology
was thus reflected in this nineteenth-century remake of an interior from that epoch.
Anca I. Lasc
15
For the nineteenth-century inhabitant of such an interior it
did not matter that neither of these two works belonged
to the Renaissance. While Apollo Belvedere was a classi-
cal work rediscovered during the Renaissance and consid-
ered to be one of Antiquity’s most accomplished artworks
throughout the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries,
Houdon’s sculpture was an eighteenth-century work that
only had in common with the Renaissance the fascination
with classical mythology. By referencing classical mythology
in a Renaissance setting, however, Bajot stayed within the
chosen style, thus avoiding blatant anachronisms. His work
thus respected the theoretical prescriptions imposed by deco-
rating advisors, and, while seemingly eclectic, it nevertheless
obeyed their rules and regulations.
Conclusion
A fevered discussion was taking place in the literature on collecting and decorating
at the time—whether dedicated to men or to women—about what kinds of objects
should be used in a specific interior, how they should be used and when. Taste instruc-
tors debated the role and quality of imitations, argued over the latter’s suitability in
the home, and tried to establish when and where such objects were allowed, if at
all. When studied in their original context, rather than being unconditionally eclectic,
interior decoration designs present themselves as accurate renditions of historically-
remote or exotic spaces that could be collected in private apartments. Without neces-
sarily acknowledging it openly, educators were both contesting and complementing
each other’s arguments. The printed medium of the book proved to be a fertile ground
for such discussions, thus establishing the common theoretical grounds of the late
nineteenth-century popular visual culture of interior decorating. Thinking about the
nineteenth-century practice of interior decorating in non-gender specific terms allows
us not only to recognize the permeability of boundaries between collecting and deco-
rating at the time but also to understand the complexities of interior décor in a culture
overwhelmed by an abundance of goods. A new aesthetic was being developed in
the collecting and decorating manuals of the second half of the nineteenth century,
which was less about the past and more about the present. Conversations always kept
Anca I. Lasc
Department of Art and Design, Shippensburg University, Shippensburg, PA, USA
E-mail: alasc@ship.edu
Dr Anca I. Lasc is Assistant Professor of Art and Design History at Shippensburg
University. Her work focuses on the invention and commercialization of the modern
French interior and on the development of the new profession of interior designer in
the nineteenth century. She has published in Interiors: Design, Architecture, Culture,
and has presented at numerous conferences, including those organized by the College
Art Association, the Society of Architectural Historians and the Society for French
Historical Studies. In addition to the modern interior, Lasc’s research also studies the art
of commercial window dressing in nineteenth-century France and America.
If you have any comments to make in relation to this article, please go to the journal website on
http://jdh.oxfordjournals.org and access this article. There is a facility on the site for sending e-mail
responses to the editorial board and other readers.
Acknowledgements: I would like to thank my Ph.D. advisor, Vanessa R. Schwartz, for her valuable
feedback and relentless energy in pushing this project forward. I would also like to thank Roxane
Debuisson and Florence Quignard-Debuisson, as well as the staff of the Bibliothèque Forney, the
Anca I. Lasc
17
Musée d’Orsay, the Bibliothèque des arts décoratifs and the Winterthur Library for their help with
the research process. The Society of Architectural Historians and the Nineteenth Century Studies
Association have provided me with amazing forums in which to present my work in front of an
academic community. Unless otherwise noted, all translations from French are my own.
Notes
1 G. Rémon, Intérieurs d’appartements modernes, E. Thézard Dourdan, c. 1880–1900, La Décoration de style, E. Thézard,
Fils, Dourdan, c. 1892. I have determined the book’s Dourdan, 1900s, and Intérieurs d’appartements modernes,
approximate publication based on C. Krantz, Rapports sur all published by É. Thézard.
l’Exposition internationale de Chicago en 1893: Comité
4 M. Le Corbeiller, Musée centennal des classes 66, 69, 70,
34, Imprimerie et Librairie—Cartographie, Imprimerie
71, 97: Mobilier et décoration à l’Exposition universelle
Nationale, Paris, 1894. The Librairie spéciale d’architecture
internationale de 1900, à Paris, Rapport de la commission
E. Thézard Fils is listed as having sent Rémon’s Intérieurs
d’installation, Impr. Belin, Saint-Cloud, 1900.
d’appartements modernes as part of its exhibit. Moreover,
the Winterthur Library owns a copy of Rémon’s book that 5 For an account of the Venus de Milo’s discovery in 1820
was signed and dated by the British architect W. F. (William see W. Tufts Brigham, Cast Catalogue of Antique Sculpture:
Anca I. Lasc
19
in Yale French Studies: Fragments of Revolution, H. G. Lay & 37 Blondel, op. cit., p. 1. The quote can be found almost in its
C. Weber (eds), vol. 101, 2002, pp. 32–53. entirety in E. de Goncourt, La Maison d’un artiste, Ernest
25 The king had the various chambers in châteaux from the Flammarion, Paris, 1931, reprint [orig. 1881], p. 8. For more
ancien régime restored in their original styles or, as Leora information on Jules and Edmond de Goncourt, see D. Pety,
Auslander, op. cit., p. 163, explains, in styles deemed appro- ‘Goncourt, Jules et Edmond (de)’, in Sénéchal & Barbillon, op.
priate ‘to the different functions of the rooms.’. cit., <http://www.inha.fr/spip.php?article2342> accessed 3
May 2011.
26 R. Haaff, Louis-Philippe Möbel. Louis-Philippe Furniture:
Bürgerliche Möbel des Historismus. Middle-Class Furniture 38 Blondel, op. cit., p. 5.
of the Historicism, Arnoldsche, Stuttgart, 2004, p. 11. 39 On the business partnership of Achille Collas and Ferdinand
27 The expression was coined by A. Martin-Fugier, La Vie élé- Barbedienne, see M. Shedd, ‘A Mania for Statuettes: Achille
gante ou la formation du tout-Paris 1815–1848, Fayard, Collas and Other Pioneers in the Mechanical Reproduction
Paris, 1990, p. 23. of Sculpture’, Gazette des beaux-arts, vol. 120, no. 1482–3,
August 1992, pp. 36–48.
28 See Martin-Fugier, op. cit., p. 23. Balzac coined the term in
an 1830 article published in La Mode. 40 Blondel, op. cit., pp. 37–38. The Venus de Milo was found in
1820 in an excavation on the island of Milo (ancient Melos)
29 Turgan, ‘Fabrique d’ameublements en bois massif de MM.
and entered the Louvre in 1821. See Tufts Brigham, op. cit.
Anca I. Lasc
21
67 M. Dobie, ‘Orientalism, Colonialism, and Furniture in M. Kuenzli has convincingly argued that the Nabis’ decora-
Eighteenth-Century France’, in D. Goodman and K. Norberg tive work consistently blurred the boundaries between mas-
(eds), Furnishing the Eighteenth Century: What Furniture Can culine and feminine spaces inside the home. Kuenzli explains
Tell Us about the European and American Past, Routledge (op. cit., p. 13): ‘their [the Nabis’] idiom remains the same
Taylor & Francis Group, New York & London, 2007, pp. 13–36. whether they painted for a man or a woman, for a space
68 Ibid, pp. 19–20. given over to intellectual work or to a morning toilette. This
essential sameness suggests a new understanding of the
69 Ibid., p. 20. home as a totality in which social and gender identities were
70 Jacquemart, op. cit., pp. 24–5. deemed irrelevant to aesthetic experience.’
71 See de Bassanville, L’Art de bien tenir une maison, op. cit., 86 Havard, L’Art dans la maison, op. cit., pp. 301–2.
p. 115. 87 G. F. Lenoir, Practical and Theoretical Treatise on Decorative
72 Ibid. Hangings or Guide to Upholstery, C.-J. Cassirer (trans.),
73 Ibid., p. 116. E. Lyon-Claesen, Brussels, c. 1890, p. 101.
74 For an account of larger tendencies in interior decorating in 88 Havard, L’Art dans la maison, op. cit., p. 306.
the West, see S. Muthesius, The Poetic Home: Designing the 89 Ibid.
19th-Century Domestic Interior, Thames & Hudson, London
Anca I. Lasc
23
105 The price of a lavishly hand-coloured volume of Intérieurs 110 Ibid.
d’appartements meublés in the author’s hand was no less than 111 Ibid.
500 francs. Only ten editions were produced, but the author
has not been able to find any so far. See Claesen, op. cit. 112 Ibid.
113 Ibid.
106 See C. Claesen, Catalogue général d. tentures, ébénisterie,
menuiserie, décoration intérieure, Ch. Claesen, Paris, Liège 114 Ibid.
& Brussels, c. 1884, p. 10. 115 Houdon’s marble version of Diana, which preceded the
107 Krantz, op. cit. bronze version currently in the Louvre, can be seen in
the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian in Lisbon. The Apollo
108 Charles Kreutzberger (1829–c. 1900s) was a painter of
portraits, genre scenes, landscapes, who showed at the Belvedere was rediscovered during the Renaissance, and
in the nineteenth century it was located in the Vatican.
Salon of 1863. See E. Bénézit, Dictionnaire critique et
Marble copies of this sculpture could be purchased from
documentaire des peintres, sculpteurs, dessinateurs, et
the Maison Barbedienne for as little as eighty francs a
graveurs de tous les temps et de tous les pays par un
piece, although one could also pay as much as 825 francs
groupe d’écrivains spécialistes français et étrangers, vol. 8,
for the same work. See Maison F. Barbedienne, Catalogue
Éditions Gründ, Paris, 1999, p. 45.
des bronzes d’art s.l.: s.n., 1875.
109 Kreutzberger, op. cit.