Silver monteith at Erddig, Wrexham, maker's mark TA or IA in monogram, London, 1689. ©National Trust/Susanne Gronnow

I have just been having an interesting conversation with Courtney Barnes over at Style Court about issues of femininity and masculinity in design and decoration. Courtney made the perceptive comment that, at least in recent times, chinoiserie or Chinese-style decoration has been seen as ‘feminine’, whereas japonisme or the taste for Japanese design is considered more something ‘for the guys’.

Detail of a chinoiserie motif on the Erddig monteith. ©National Trust/Susanne Gronnow

I am fascinated by how the meaning of certain motifs and styles changes over time, and indeed how feminine and masculine identity is expressed in different periods.

Detail of a chinoiserie motif on the Erddig monteith. ©National Trust/Susanne Gronnow

Shown here is an example of ‘masculine’ chinoiserie, a silver monteith at Erddig, Wrexham, with chased decoration in the pseudo-Chinese style popular in Britain in the 1680s. Monteiths were used as punchbowls or to cool glasses and as such were an accoutrement of male conviviality. In Restoration-period Britain chinoiserie seems to have been ‘for the guys’ as well as for the ladies.

Bench-cum-library-steps, at Coughton Court, Warwickshire (inv. no. 135342). ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

In response to the previous post Margaret McAvoy asked how that bench at Coughton Court actually transforms into a set of library steps.

Regency-period 'Patent Metamorphic Library Chair' by Morgan and Saunders (inv. no. 871315) in the Library at Saltram, Devon. ©NTPL/John Hammond

So here you can see how it works: you simply flip it on its side and ascend the little steps inserted between the legs.

The armchair 'metamorphed' into a set of steps. ©NTPL/John Hammond

I have found a few more images of ‘convertible’ library steps.

Chair that converts into steps, in the Library at Penrhyn Castle, Gwynedd, built 1820-1832 by Thomas Hopper for George Hay Dawkins-Pennant. ©NTPL/John Hammond

There seems to be a variety of ways to transform chairs and benches into steps, and it clearly appealed to the cabinetmaker’s ingenuity.

Bench containing a set of library steps, supplied by Thomas Chippendale in 1767-8 for the Library at Nostell Priory, West Yorkshire (inv. no. 959724). ©NTPL/Jonathan Gibson

There are some relatively simple and modest examples, and complicated and grand ones by the likes of Chippendale.

The Nostell Priory library steps unfolded. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

You can do some more browsing for library steps in the National Trust Collections database.

Coughton Court, with its sixteenth-century gate tower flanked by eighteenth-century neo-Gothic wings. ©NTPL/Robert Morris

Coughton Court, in Warwickshire, has been associated with the Throckmorton family since 1409. The wealth of the Throckmortons increased during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but following the Reformation their Catholic faith increasingly caused them to be persecuted and fined.

The Tower Room, where Mass was celebrated in secret during the period when Catholicism was prohibited in England. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

Catholic priests were hidden at the house and Mass continued to be celebrated there.

The Saloon. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

Sir Francis Throckmorton (1554-1584) was executed for his alleged involvement in a plan to overthrow Queen Elizabeth I. Sir Thomas Throckmorton (1539-1607) was associated with those behind the Gunpowder Plot, the 1605 conspiracy to blow up the Palace of Westminster and King James I.

Portrait of Anne Frances Throckmorton, Prioress of the English Augustinian Convent of Notre-Dame-de-Sion, Paris, by Nicolas de Largillière, c. 1729 (inv. no. 135583), hung above a Chippendale-style seat that can also be used as library steps (inv. no. 135342), in the Blue Drawing Room. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

The house was also besieged by Parliamentary troops during the Civil War.

The Blue Drawing Room, with a portrait of Sir Robert Throckmorton, 4th Bt., by Nicolas de Largillière, c. 1729 (inv. no. 135620), over the fireplace. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

After all that upheaval the Throckmorton family managed to rebuild its fortunes through some judicious marriages. Neo-Gothic wings were added to the house in the 1780s and in the Victorian period a Catholic chapel was built close by. Members of the Throckmorton family still live at Coughton today.

Chinese porcelain teapot, Zhangzhou white ware, c. 1650-1670 with European silver-gilt mounts, c. 1660-1680, at Ham House (inv. no. 1139006). ©NTPL/Bill Batten

At Ham House, Surrey, there is an old and rather iconic Chinese teapot, which normally lives on a tea table in the so-called Duchess’s Private Closet. It has traditionally been called the Duchess of Lauderdale’s teapot, as it is thought to have been owned by Elizabeth Murray, Countess of Dysart and later Countess and Duchess of Lauderdale (1626-1698).

Portrait of the Duke and Duchess of Lauderdale, by Sir Peter Lely, at Ham House (inv. no. 1139789). ©NTPL/John Bethell

The Duchess of Lauderdale played an important role in creating the appearance of Ham House as we can still see it today. Her husband John Maitland, 1st Duke of Lauderdale, was an intimate of Charles II and was given the powerful post of Secretary of State for Scotland. At Ham the Lauderdales created grand suites of apartments with sumptuous furnishings sourced from across Europe and even from the Far East.

Chinese porcelain vase, Zhangzhou white ware, Kangxi period (1662-1722), height 334 mm, in the British Museum, on loan from the Sir Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art (inv. no. AN569782001). ©Trustees of the British Museum

We don’t have absolute proof that the Duchess owned the teapot, but it is thought to date from about 1650-1670, so the period fits. In the past it has been variously described as ‘celadon’ or as Ge, Tongqi or Dehua ware. However, the National Trust’s ceramics adviser Patricia Ferguson recently noticed that a vase with a similar glaze in the British Museum had been recatalogued as white Zhangzhou ware.

The Duchess's Private Closet at Ham House, with the Chinese teapot on the Javanese tea table. ©NTPL/John Hammond

This is a rare type of underfired porcelain produced at the Zhangzhou kilns in Fujian province during the seventeenth century in imitation of the famous white-glazed Ding ware. Zhangzhou white wares were not generally made for export and this particular teapot must have come to Europe in the private cargo of a European merchant. At Ham House it sits on another late-seventeenth-century exotic rarity, a low Javanese table raised on a European base to serve as a tea table.

Lustreware plate by William De Morgan, at Wightwick Manor. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

I have just read in Museums Journal that the De Morgan Centre in Wandsworth, south London has reopened.

The Mourners, by Evelyn De Morgan, 1917, at Wightwick Manor. ©NTPL/John Hammond

This museum and study centre is devoted to the work of William and Evelyn De Morgan, an artistic couple at the heart of the Arts and Crafts movement.

The Drawing Room at Wightwick Manor, which includes Chinese, Japanese and Persian ceramics as well as some by William De Morgan. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

William De Morgan became known for his rediscovery of lustreware and his tiles and vessels with medieval and Islamic motifs.

Vase by William De Morgan, at Wightwick Manor. ©NTPL/Nadia Mackenzie

Evelyn was a succesful painter who had been the first woman to attend the Slade School of Art in London.

The Bells of San Vito, by Evelyn De Morgan, in the Pomegranate Passage at Wightwick Manor. ©NTPL/Paul Raeside

In characteristically high-minded Victorian fashion, the De Morgans were also involved in pacifism, prison reform, spiritualism and women’s rights.

'Tulip and Trellis' pattern tiles by William De Morgan, in the Visitors' Bathroom at Wightwick Manor. ©NTPL/John Hammond

Like the overlapping spheres of William and Evelyn’s lives, Arts and Crafts interiors blended art and design to create an overall aesthetic environment – as can still be seen, for instance, at Wightwick Manor, Wolverhampton.

Portrait of Elizabeth Knollys, Lady Leighton, attributed to George Gower, 1577, at Montacute House, Somerset (Sir Percy Malcolm Stewart bequest). ©NTPL/Derrick E. Witty

I vividly remember seeing this portrait years ago at an exhibition about Elizabeth I at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich. It sang out with its self-confident fashion sense. 

It comes as no surprise that this woman, Elizabeth Knollys (pronounced to rhyme with bowls), Lady Leighton, is thought to have been in charge of the Queen’s wardrobe – in effect a kind of fashion adviser or dresser.

Portrait of Margaret Layton, attributed to Marcus Gheeraerts, c. 1620. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Her own appearance is very sophisticated, the orange dress echoing her reddish hair, but toned down by the black slashed bodice (if that this correct technical term), with the pattern of the slashes seeming to mimick the bow fastenings, and set off by various jewels which also return in her sassy tall hat with its elegant pink feather.

The portrait of Margaret Layton together with the linen jacket worn by the sitter, embroidered with coloured silks, silver and silver-gilt thread, made c. 1610-1615, altered c. 1620. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

A slightly later fashion moment, from the Jacobean period, has been preserved at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, where a c. 1620 portrait of Margaret Layton is shown next to the actual jacket she can be seen wearing in the picture.

Portrait of a lady, possibly Vere Egerton, Mrs William Booth (m. 1619), attributed to Robert Peake, at Dunham Massey, Cheshire. ©NTPL/Matthew Hollow

At Dunham Massey we hope to create something similar later this year: fashion student Jennifer Craig is working on a recreation of the costume of Vere Egerton, to be displayed near her recently acquired portrait. The current plan is to partly open up the costume, to show how it was constructed and what it would have been like to wear.

One of Jennifer Craig's sketches. ©Jennifer Craig

Jennifer is keeping a blog called Recreating the Costume of Vere Egerton to show the results of her research and the progress with the costume.

The State Dining Room at Tredegar House. ©NTPL/Chris Lacey

I recently showed some images of the exterior of Tredegar House, Newport, which will now be managed under the aegis of the National Trust.

One of the carved doorways of the State Dining Room. ©NTPL/Chris Lacey

The new wing at Tredegar that Thomas Morgan and his son William were building in the 1660s and early 1670s was a flamboyant symbol of the family’s ambition. William’s marriage to Blanche Morgan, a distant cousin, had provided him with wealth, extensive estates and political influence, and he needed a house to match.

Detail of the carving in the State Dining Room. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

The building is in the fashionable baroque style, strictly symmetrical and with a cupola – since demolished – on its hipped roof. The red bricks for the walls, although probably made locally, would have been a rare sight in this region at this time.

Doorway between the State Dining Room and the Gilt Room. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

Some of the baroque interiors survive as well, and they are as exuberant as anything in the British Isles. The State Dining Room includes some extraordinary carved wood decoration, including deep pediments, busts, foliage and grotesque masks.

The Gilt Room. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

This connects to the Gilt Room (or ‘Gilted Roome’ as it was described in 1688), where carved wood and marble is complemented by extensive gilding to create an even more overpowering effect.

Detail of the chimneypiece in the Gilt Room. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

William Morgan’s grandson, another William, sealed the family’s rise by marrying Rachael Cavendish, a daughter of the Duke of Devonshire, in 1724 and by being made a Knight of the Bath in 1725. Ironically by then the baroque splendour of Tredegar would have begun to appear rather old-fashioned – but it had clearly fulfilled its public relations function.

Anne Boteler, Countess of Newport, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, at Petworth House. ©NTPL/Derrick E. Witty

Paintings expert Bendor Grosvenor has been perusing our new online National Trust Collections database (which I first posted about here), testing his eye on various ‘school of’ and ‘attributed to’ portraits. He has reported his hunches on his Art History News blog.

An unknown Genoese lady, attributed to Sir Anthony Van Dyck, at Petworth House. ©National Trust/Andrew Fetherston

For instance, he thinks that this portrait of a lady at Petworth, attributed to Van Dyck, really is by the artist himself, done in the mid 1620s in Italy.

Henry, Baron Percy of Alnwick, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, at Petworth House. ©NTPL/Matthew Hollow

This kind of response is really encouraging. It means people are now starting to use the National Trust Collections site for research and comparison. The site itself (and the National Trust’s curatorial records) will also benefit from these responses, as more information comes to light and opinions are exchanged.

Catherine Bruce, Mrs Murray, later Countess of Dysart, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, at Petworth House. ©NTPL/Derrick E. Witty

Once again we see the potential of crowd sourcing – which, in the slightly rarified area of old master paintings expertise, should perhaps be called in-crowd sourcing (but an in-crowd accessible to all).

Thomas Wentworth, 1st Earl of Strafford, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, at Petworth House. ©NTPL/Derrick E. Witty

As it happens, the Economist newspaper featured an article in its most recent issue about a related development in a ‘parallel universe’ to art history: the effect of blogging and social media in spreading ideas and discussions from the academic world of economics into the wider business and policy environment.

Henry Percy, 9th Earl of Northumberland (the 'wizard earl'), painted posthumously as a philosopher, at Petworth House. ©NTPL/Derrick E. Witty

So do have a look yourself on National Trust Collections, search for objects that fall within your professional expertise or private obsession, and let me know if you, too, can spot any ‘sleepers’.

Portrait of a lady, presumed to be Vere Egerton, attributed to Robert Peake (c. 1551-1619). ©Sotheby's

The portrait of a lady, probably Vere Egerton, which we purchased recently at auction with help from the Art Fund, is now back at Dunham Massey.

English School, portrait of Lady Elizabeth Cecil, Countess of Berkshire (1596-1672), eighteenth-century copy after an original by the Comet Master, at Dunham Massey. ©National Trust/Robert Thrift

Vere Egerton married William Booth of Dunham in 1619, and her connections and wealth marked a rise in the family fortunes. The newly acquired portrait of her is the most spectacular of the early portraits at Dunham.

English School, portrait of Mary Bunce, Lady Langham (1599/1600-1652), 1650, at Dunham Massey. Lady Langham's granddaughter Mary married Henry Booth, 1st Earl of Warrington. ©National Trust/Robert Thrift

Its acquisition is important for that reason, but also because it allows the picture to be seen in the context of other late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century portraits of the Booth and Grey families at Dunham.

English School, after Cornelius Jonson, portrait of Lady Diana Cecil, Countess of Oxford and Elgin (c. 1603-1654), at Dunham Masey. ©National Trust/Robert Thrift

Vere’s great great granddaughter, Lady Mary Booth (1704-1772) married Harry Grey, 4th Earl of Stamford (1715-1768), and it was through that marriage that Dunham was inherited by the Earls of Stamford.

The Stone Parlour at Dunham, originally an informal dining room in the Tudor period, with early eighteenth-century (but deliberately old-fashioned) panelling, which was remodelled in antiquarian fashion in 1906. ©NTPL/Andreas von Einsiedel

So the copies of the Jacobean portraits of the Countesses of Berkshire and Oxford, sisters-in-law of the 1st Earl of Stamford, who would have been Vere’s contemporaries, only came to Dunham much later. But it is those historical loops and connections, (as also seen in the development of the Stone Parlour shown above, for instance) that make country house collections so interesting.

Leather fire bucket painted with the royal arms, at Scotney Castle, Kent. ©National Trust

The National Trust has just made another small step towards making its collections more accessible: our object database, including fine and decorative art, furniture and household and estate parafernalia is now available online as National Trust Collections.

Small metal bucket at Standen, West Sussex. ©National Trust

This is very much a work in progress. Although almost three quarters of a million items are currently available online, more are still being added and we will probably end up with closer to a million.

Mahogany and brass turf bucket, mid-eighteenth-century, at Ardress House, Co Armagh. ©National Trust

Some records are more extensive and complete than others, but several people (of which I am one) are constantly checking and improving descriptions and adding images. We thought it would be better to show you what has been recorded so far, warts and all, rather than wait until everything is perfect.

Child's metal bucket, at Wightwick Manor, Wolverhampton. ©National Trust

So do let us know if you spot anything that can be improved – either by emailing collections@nationaltrust.org.uk or by contacting me.

Leather fire bucket at Florence Court, Co Fermanagh, with the 'E' of the Earl of Enniskillen, the owner of the house. ©National Trust

Equally, we hope you will enjoy browsing the collections and discovering the beautiful, weird and wonderful objects lurking in the various historic houses of the National Trust. If you have a specific research interest there are various ways you can search, such as by historic house, by object category, or by date. Happy treasure-hunting!