Seeking the Paraphernalia of Grandeur - NYTimes.com
COWDRAY PARK, ENGLAND — Imagine a sprawling Neo-Tudor manor in the midst of lush West Sussex countryside. Ladies painted life size in grand attire and mustachioed gentlemen look down from the walls, with thin superior smiles. Dark oaken furniture tries hard to give the grand “Buck Hall” a 17th-century feel while mahogany pieces, Georgian in appearance if not necessarily in reality, make a drawing room look gentler. Here and there, bits of Renaissance armor add a Ye Olde Castle touch reminiscent of Hollywood movie sets.
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Christie’s
A portrait believed to be of Elizabeth Howard, daughter of Charles, First Earl of Nottingham, brought £145,250, topping Christie’s high estimate by a third.
This is what Cowdray Park, bought in 1908 by Weetman Pearson, First Viscount Cowdray, looked like until Christie’s sold off this week over 1,000 lots ranging from porcelain and furniture to paintings in a three-day auction conducted on the grounds. They had graced the residences of the family that owns the publishing group Pearson Plc.
If the art market followed economic logic, the Cowdray Park sale would have ended in disaster. By Tuesday evening, after the hammer came down on the last of the first 400 lots, 369 of these had realized £5.74 million, or $9.05 million, leaving a minimal 8 percent failure rate.
Objects and pieces of furniture that seemed sure to run into difficulties because they have long been out of fashion or because they are not of the period suggested by their style were warmly received against the odds.
A pair of Dutch Delftware vases painted with characters in 17th-century costume but handled in a manner that gives away their late 19th-century period, rose well above the high estimate as they brought £11,875.
Lord and Lady Cowdray had bought plenty of oak furniture with greater enthusiasm than concern for authenticity, and Christie’s experts called a spade a spade.
An “English oak, fruitwood and mother-of-pearl inlaid cupboard, late 19th century” hardly looked promising. The incorporation of earlier bits, conscientiously mentioned in the catalog, would invite derision from connoisseurs, amused at some erstwhile dealer’s trick meant to take in inexperienced buyers. This did not prevent the cupboard from making £4,000, including the buyer’s premium. Another piece of that ilk, entered as “An English oak ivory and mother-of-pearl inlaid cupboard. Circa 1880-1900,” which seemed hopeless, matched the middle estimate at £2,500.
Ironically, a walnut and fruitwood chest catalogued as a genuine piece of the late 17th century excited less interest. “Minor restorations and replacements to mouldings” did not seriously impair its quality. But the chest barely made it to the low estimate and went for £3,500— authenticity was not the issue that day.
Nor did any style stand out as a selection criterion. A pair of large French bronze candelabra on red scagliola columns dating from the 1880s reproduced a model of the 1780s. Louis XVI furniture and decorative objects that are the real thing do not sell well these days. Paradoxically, the pair of Louis XVI imitation candelabra triggered vigorous competition and climbed to £73,250, more than double the price predicted by Christie’s.
More surprisingly still, a pair of 20th-century table lamps copying Louis XVI marble vases with gilt bronze mounts brought £4,350. They would be hard to sell in a downmarket sale at Christie’s South Kensington. By the time a pair of tall blackish bronze floor lamps vaguely evocative of 17th-century Florence found a taker at £8,125, it was impossible to reject the feeling that bidders were going after the objects for their connection with Cowdray Park and its famous owners.
The Pearson family glamour? Unlikely. There is nothing very glitzy about a dubious oaken chest or a pair of modern Louis XVI marble vases fitted to electricity. Bidders having fun with memorabilia and happy to spend money on a fine day? Partly so. But, more fundamentally, this was a get-together of the middle-class establishment paying tribute to those of their own who had attained the pinnacle of social success.
