By Ian Mumpton
The Corner chair displayed in the Study at Schuyler Mansion Walnut or Mahogany, Green Velvet Upholstery, circa 1765-1775 |
Touring Schuyler Mansion, visitors have the opportunity to
view an impressive collection of 18th century objects and furniture,
including a number of items original to the family. One piece that always
garners attention is the Corner chair (also referred to as a Roundabout chair)
in the Study. Unlike other chairs in the home, the Corner chair has its seat
turned 45 degrees to the usual position, coming to a point at the “front”, with
the rail and back wrapping around two sides of the square seat. It occupies a
central position in the room as soon as you enter, and its unusual shape makes
it the frequent object of conversation and questions: “Why does that chair look
like that?”, “How would you sit in a chair of that sort?”
What makes this chair so cool is that there is no single
answer to these questions. Instead, to explain a Corner chair, you have to look
at who is using it when, how they end up using it, and why
they are doing so.
Many early-18th century examples of these chairs either
feature rounded fronts or indented sides. According to Jenny Pynt and Joy
Higgs, authors of A History of Seating,3000 BC to 2000 AD: Function Versus Aesthetics, early Roundabout chairs
were designed to encourage good posture while reading and writing. The sitter
would sit inclined forward over their reading or writing surface, straddling the
forward leg of the chair. This was not possible for women with their long
gowns, but for men it allowed them to put their legs slightly back with their
knees falling just a little below the level of the chair seat. This resulted in
a sitting position that both inclined the sitter forward but maintained a
straight back at a roughly 90 degree angle to the lap. According to Pynt and
Higgs, less ornate version of these chairs could be found in working homes in the
early century as well, especially those of weavers, further indicating the
intention to encourage comfortable posture.
Portrait of John Bours in the Worcester Art Museum. Bours is seated sideways in a corner chair, accentuating his refinement |
By the mid-to-late 18th century, more angular
versions of the chair grew in popularity. Rather than coming to a rounded front
over the forward leg, this style of Corner chair, like the one in the Schuyler
Mansion study, comes to a right angle with straight edges. This change in style
accompanied a change in use, though it is debated whether form followed
function or vice versa. Attempting to straddle the forward leg on an angular
chair of this sort can be far less comfortable than with its rounded cousins.
Instead, by mid-century, it became increasingly common to sit sideways in the
chair, reclining along one arms of the chair in a dashing style.
To understand the importance of this change, it is necessary
to explore personal display and proper sitting culture of the time. The 18th
century concept of refinement held that, just as a genteel person beautified
their home with elegant furnishings and filled their lives with intellectual
and gentlemanly activities, the way that one presented the body reflected a
cultured lifestyle. Proper posture was considered essential to attaining this
intangible goal, not only while standing, but while sitting as well. The easiest way to explore this is through
images.
|
The first image, The Wrapping Landlady, dates to the 1750’s. It depicts two people whom, from
their clothing alone, we can easily tell occupy a relatively low station in society. To the 18th century eye, posture would be just as clear an indicator
of their status. While the landlady herself sits with an upright posture, her
folded arms hint at a working-class status. The man is another case altogether.
He is leaning back on a bench, his elbow on the table and one leg stretched out
along his seat. This is not at all the posture of a gentleman.
The Thistlethwayte Family c.1758 by Thomas Hudson, in the collection of the Yale Center for British Art |
If good posture was considered refined, then breaking with
that conformity could either mar or enhance one’s social standing. The rusticity
of the working man in The Wrapping
Landlady is marked by his relaxed, informal sitting habits, whereas the
father of the Thistlethwayte family’s refined lean marks him as a gentleman. Of
course, in order to achieve the desired effect, the poor posture had to be
deliberate. Gentlemanly status alone could not bestow the laurels of refinement
upon a sloucher. William Hogarth’s A Midnight Modern Conversation lampoons the idea of inherent refinement with
its depiction of a group of gentlemen who, full of too much wine and punch, have
turned their parlor into a scene of drunken revelry and contented foolishness.
They are neither seated properly nor do they lean in a dignified manner.
Instead, the whole party is slouched in their chairs or, most heinous of all,
tilting their seats back on back on two legs.
William Hogarth, A Midnight Modern Conversation. Note the man tilting his chair on the left. |
Corner chairs become the ultimate example of this deliberately casual symbol of refinement. Unlike the working man’s bench in The Wrapping Landlady, Corner chairs, with their elaborate woodwork and expensive upholstery material, are themselves refined. When gentlemen began to sit in the sideways, the inherent refinement of the chair served to bring an element of relaxed gentility to their reclined posture. It seems that this is how the chair in the Study at Schuyler Mansion was used. There is much heavier evidence of wear on the left arm of the chair. Further, the legs on the left side of the piece are much more heavily worn than those on the right. In fact, these legs are worn at a nearly 45 degree angle with the floor. Was someone tilting their chair? It is a definite possibility.
Despite the change in use, Rondabaouts retained their
masculine characteristics. Angled chairs and deeply carved rails posed a
tearing risk to the fine silk gowns of ladies. Just as importantly, the “art of
the lean”, as Dr. Robin Campbell has referred to it, was a masculine form of
body presentation. In formal company, ladies were expected to maintain a much
more upright posture (for example, while Mr. Thistlethwayte may demonstrate his
refinement by leaning, his wife and daughters all maintain perfect posture in
their family portrait).
A number of myths and half-myths have formed around these
chairs over the years. One favorite is that they were designed for men because
men could slide their sword through the carved back of the chair, thereby
allowing them to sit comfortably. This is because it is supposedly impossible
to sit in a corner chair with a sword on otherwise. In their original use as
writing chairs, the number of scholars needing to arm themselves for their
studies is presumably rare by the 18th century, but those gentlemen
using them to lean back with their feet up would have found them much more comfortable for sitting with a
sword on their belt. (Wondering how common swords might have been by the 18th
century? Click here to read one of our earlier articles on the topic).
With their unusual appearance, Corner chairs raise all sorts
of questions for modern audiences, but as strange as they may be, they are a
fascinating opportunity to think about just how important body language and
personal display has been, and continues to be, to human society.
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