When we moved to Manhattan, in 1965, for a first real job, we had hardly a stick of furniture. We thought we needed, in addition to a bed and a kitchen table, a bench for an entrance hall. Wandering around Greenwich Village (Althea was very big with child), we stumbled into an antique store, one of scores that populated the area in those pre-Ebay days. Pisces Antiques, it was called and it was owned by a young English woman named Kim Sylvester. (Isn't it astonishing that I remember these details?) This bench (properly a settle) caught our eye, not the least because it cost half as much as a functional bland modern equivalent at Macy's or Wanamaker. "What is it?, I asked. Kim said, "English, Jacobean, about 1650." And so it was. A surprise.
I've since learned a bit about seventeenth-century English furniture and I'm convinced that the large back panel is genuine. It's late medieval in style and exhibits all three of the kinds of carving that are typical of the age. The four central panels (stylized poppy on the outsides, stylized thistle on the insides) are called "recessed ground." Separating the flowered panels are pieces that are "gouge" carved. The crosspiece at the top is "incised." As for the body of the settle, I suspect it's not very ancient, but instead assembled from old wood by a furniture maker who had respect for the carved back and wanted to re-use or re-purpose it. When was this reconstruction accomplished? It might have been anytime before 1965, but most probably during the long 19th century. Possibly during the so-called gothic revival period in the 1880s and 1890s.
I've admired this settle for 55 years. Nowadays It sits proudly just to the right of our entrance door. I like it that our guests pile their coats and bags on the Jacobean settle when they enter our home, not noticing that this discreet piece of furniture is old and rare and singular. No one asks about it and I don't tell. It's my secret.
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