IN the Elizabethan period there is no longer so great a rarity of existing objects of furniture and woodwork. It is true that we are still, and shall always be, hampered, as must generally be the case in considerations of the applied arts, by an inability to name the designer and maker of this or that particular example. The historian of French furniture is more fortunate in that respect in at least one period, and that, perhaps, the most interesting of all. The enactment by which the matire ebeniste, after 1751, was required to stamp his name upon his work has been of the greatest use. We cannot but regret that the practice has not been general in all countries and at all periods. Whilst adding greatly to the interest of the study of furniture, it would still leave a multitude of points upon which the ingenuity of connoisseurs might exercise itself. There would be no danger of the task becoming too easy. We are grateful for an authentic date; we like to see the name, even the initials, of the owner.

The fancy may amuse itself as to the history and fortunes of that Esther Hobsonne who so uncompromisingly claims possession of her chest in the Victoria and Albert Museum. How much more useful would it have been for the study of the evolution of furniture if we could have found even a few pieces in each class marked with the same maker's name? In the eighteenth century we have the assistance of the books of design. We can identify the style of Chippendale, Heppelwhite, and Sheraton, and the rest to a great extent from their published drawings. In the periods preceding theirs we have nothing to help us. The curse of anonymity is, however, one to be put up with; and, after all, there are compensations. A fine piece of furniture stands on its own merits. The finest possible drawing or picture loses in pecuniary value, and too often, therefore, in estimation, for want of an authentic signature.