Called on the carpet:A brief history of historic carpetimg

Dan Cooper has written extensively on the subject of historic floorcoverings and interiors for many magazines. This includes a popular serialized blog for the Old House Web entitled "Called on the Carpet" where he expounded on the subject. The five chapters have been consolidated below:

Q: What is the most historically appropriate floorcovering for houses built between the years of 1775 and 1875?
A: Anything but an oriental rug.

Oriental Rug placed ex post facto in an Early Interior

1830s Neo-Classical Interior with Brussels Carpet

Even after 35-plus years of the preservation movement in this country, many homeowners and museums still believe that oriental carpets are an accurate floorcovering for most historic interiors with a period of interpretation before 1875.

Countless times, I've wandered into some Georgian, Federal or Early Victorian house museum, and there, on those "pumpkin pine" plank floors polished to a high gloss, rests some tattered Bokhara that the beaming docent proudly proclaims as original.

Nope.

In truth, those wide-planked pine floors, especially in the public rooms such as parlors, libraries and dining rooms, were never meant to see the light of day; they were intended to be covered with wall-to-wall carpeting (yes, wall-to-wall, just like the 1950s Ranch in which you grew up.)

Look carefully at the perimeter of the floor where it meets the baseboard; you'll usually see tack-marks every inch or so. They are frequently black, as the iron of the tacks leached into the wood.

Those holes were made by, ahem, carpet tacks.

Look again at those plank floors; a lot of them could hardly be deemed finish grade; for one, they're pine (softwood, not great for wear), and two, there are knot holes (these can pop out, and are considered qualitative flaws in lumber). Some argue that there's something precious about these floors as the planks used were unusually wide by today's standards. Well, of course; it was old growth lumber and the logs were pit-sawn (until the late 1830s and the advent of the circular saw…

Folks wanted carpet back then. Houses were cold (no central heat) and carpeting counteracted this fact somewhat. Carpet also warmed up an interior aesthetically and quieted the echoes of clomping boots. On top of this, all the nice houses in England had carpeted floors, and we, as a nation, still looked to Britain for aesthetic advice, even as we were throwing their tea in the harbor.

1880s Turkey Pattern

Enter the Carpet.

Back in the day, or more precisely, back in the late 18th century, carpet was woven in narrow strips, as broadloom carpeting did not appear until the 20th century. The standard increment was 27" wide, also known as ¾ goods (as 27" is three-quarters of a yard…).

Carpet was occasionally 36" wide (4/4 goods) and sometimes, accompanying borders were 22" wide (5/8 goods). The 27" standard still holds true today for stair runners, and if you look on many an old staircase, you'll see shadows of stair-rods past or tack-marks indicating that there was a 27" wide runner at one point.

These narrow strips of carpet were hand-sewn together to create a carpet of whatever size was required. The ornamental patterns, when they eventually appeared, were designed to match up at the seams, much the same as wallpaper is designed. Borders were available, and these were painstakingly mitered around corners and hearths, although these became much more popular in the mid-19th century. In an upcoming chapter, I'll discuss the technical aspects of carpet and its installation.

Back to the Oriental Rugs.

Before the last quarter of the 19th century, oriental rugs were exceedingly rare and expensive in America and small, area-sized ones might grace the occasional table-top in wealthy homes. Carpet designers, first in England (from where carpets were imported), and eventually here in America, used existing oriental rugs as inspiration and designed what we refer to today as Turkey Patterns. These emulated the motifs and colors of oriental rugs, and were then woven as mass-produced goods.

It wasn't until the advent of the Aesthetic Movement in the 1870s and its fascination with art objects from the Middle and Far East that actual oriental rugs became within the reach of the middle class. Charles Locke Eastlake, in his epic "Hints on Household Taste" advocated for polished hardwood floors embellished with area rugs, and the unbridled popularity of his work (think of a Victorian Martha Stewart) created the demand making oriental rugs that were strewn about on shiny floors fashionable.

Concurrently, carpet manufacturer increased the number of Turkey patterns for their wares, along with geometric and floral patterns that coordinated with the interiors of the time. This began the demise of wall-to-wall carpets, but they did not fade from view until the very end of the 19th century.

Ingrain Carpet

Rococo Revival Parlor

Flat-woven Carpets and the Beginning of Pattern

A clarification in terms: rugs are loose floorcoverings that are laid out, while carpets are fitted wall to wall and affixed to the floor.

Most rugs and carpets may be divided into two basic categories: flat-woven and piled goods. Flat-woven carpets are reversible; either side may be used as the yarn is "trapped" between the warp. Piled carpets have a decorative surface wherein the yarn faces upwards after passing through the warp and weft. The underside of a pile carpet is composed of densely compressed yarn that is neither comfortable nor decorative.

We've all seen examples of flat-woven carpets: they can be as simple as rag rugs but typically, we think of tribal rugs or indigenous people's craftsmanship such as those made by the Navajos or Kilims from the Middle East. The thickness of these floorcoverings is limited to the fullness of the yarn that passes from side to side on the loom. Flat-woven rugs were created by hand-powered looms, in limited quantities, and each was unique, as the weaver selected the pattern and color of the yarns with each pass of the shuttle.

A dramatic change in the production of textiles occurred in 1785, when Edmund Cartwright invented the power loom, and the ability to create mass-produced fabric, which included carpet. This was followed by the invention of the jacquard loom in 1801 by Joseph Marie Jacquard. The jacquard loom was programmed by punch cards that instructed the loom to automatically place color, and thus pattern, in a repeating, preselected manner. (Those of you of a certain age will recall the old IBM computer cards).

In the years between the invention of the power loom and the jacquard loom, there was no way to add pattern to carpets unless the weaver altered some aspect of the weaving by hand, and changed the colors of the yarn. A striped form of carpet, known as Venetians became popular, and these were created by dressing the loom with different, usually bright, colors of yarn in the warp. Venetians were, as previously mentioned, woven in narrow strips between 27 and 36 inches wide that were (and are still) hand-sewn together and tacked down around the perimeter of the room. Note on this specific example of Venetian carpet, the tiny alternating repeat called a ladder stitch). Venetians remained popular well into the first half of the 19th century, when they were eclipsed by a patterned version of flat-woven carpet termed Ingrain.

Although known as Ingrain carpets in America, these goods are also referred to as Scotch or Kidderminster carpets in Great Britain, and were very popular throughout the 19th century. Due to the jacquard loom, they could be woven in patterns with both small and large repeats; the length of pattern repeat was determined by the number of punch cards that programmed the loom for each design.

Another clarification: The British carpet industry was and is centered in the city of Kidderminster in the Midlands; many other types of carpets are woven there, including Brussels and Wilton, but there is an occasional confusion between the flat-woven Kidderminster carpet, and all the other floor coverings produced in the fair city that bears that same name.

With the ability to mass produce not only carpet, but patterned ones at that, manufacturers were now able to design floorcoverings that would coordinate popular fashion in other home furnishings and architecture. The now burgeoning middle class desired goods for their homes, and the number factories mushroomed to accommodate their demand.

Just as wallpaper, furniture and decorative objects were being created in fashionable styles, so too were carpets. For example, in the middle of the 19th century, the Rococo Revival was a hugely popular style of furnishing. We're all familiar with Rococo revival furniture, wallpaper and lighting, but note that carpet was a critical part of the design scheme, and essential to the appearance of a well appointed room in, say, the 1850s.

As decorative arts evolved over the course of the Victorian era, so too did carpet designs. In a future post, I'll go into this evolution of interiors and how carpet patterns were adapted to it.

Next week's post will be about the premium grades of historic carpet, Wilton and Brussels (and the related Axminster). These were found in wealthier homes, or perhaps in a middle class household in one or two formal rooms, such as the best parlor, and then the homeowners would select Ingrains to be fitted in the upstairs rooms.

Carpet Seam (or gutter) 3/4 of the way on right

Wilton Carpet (cut pile)

The High End: Wilton, Brussels and Axminster Carpets

Last week, I wrote about reversible, flat-woven carpets, and went into detail about the Venetian and Ingrain carpets that were and are appropriate for historic houses in America during the late 18th and 19th centuries. This week's subjects are the pile carpets that were woven concurrently during this era.

We're all familiar with pile carpet; it's the wall-to-wall floorcovering in many of our homes. The pile, or cut ends of the yarn, faces upwards, and we walk upon it. When flipped over, the backing side is a tight, scratchy grid of warp, weft and tufts of yarn.

As previously mentioned in Chapter I, the carpet looms of this period produced narrow width goods, usually 27" wide that were then hand-sewn together, laid upon the floor and tacked down. If you look at old photographs of interiors, you can often see these seams, referred to as gutters by those in the business, spaced neatly every 27 inches.

The premium grades of pile carpet were Wilton and Brussels goods. The term Brussels originates from the first European carpets that were woven in Flanders and France; they were created by having the loom weave the yarn over rods, which were then withdrawn, forming a series of tightly packed loops. If desired, these loops were then cut, which created what was termed a Wilton (or Velvet) carpet. Next time you're in a commercial airplane, look down at the cabin floor; it's typically a Brussels, and you'll see the little loops.

Here's a trick to remember the difference: a "W" (for Wilton) looks like the cut pile, while a "B" (for Brussels) is composed of loops. In the earlier part of the 19th century, the additional effort required in cutting and finishing the piles evenly to create a Wilton made it cost twice as much as a Brussels: today, this process adds just a small fraction to the price.

Wilton and Brussels carpets are essentially the same construction; all of the colored yarn in the pattern passes along the length of the goods, and the desired color for any point in the grid of the pattern is pulled up by the loom, as programmed by the jacquard card. Therein lies the technical limitation of both Wilton and Brussels weaves; most (although not all) are limited to five colors in any given point, as all potential colors must be present inside the backing. Additional colors can be "planted" with careful designing, and I'll explain this next week. On a positive note, this construction results in a denser, firmer backing and yields a carpet that is extremely long-lived.

In the second half of the 19th century, Axminster carpets became very popular as a lower-priced version of cut-pile carpet. Because Axminsters were so prevalent, many people involved with historic buildings mistakenly refer to all strip-type carpets as such, when in truth, they could also be a Wilton or Brussels. Today, when one sees patterned carpet in a public place, such as a casino, hotel or restaurant, it is usually an Axminster.

Axminsters are more economical, for they use less yarn in their construction. The pile is created by a V-shaped tuft of wool that is trapped in place between the warp and weft. This weaving method also allows for the use of many more colors, as it is not limited like the Wilton/Brussels construction. For this reason, there were many carpets with huge sprays of flowers and Arabesques that could now be produced cheaply, and were available to the middle class, including outlets such as Sears and Roebuck.

Sometimes many of these carpets patterns had matching borders that were either 13, 22 or 27 inches wide, and they were cut and mitered to frame the body of the carpet. Borders were a rarity in the earlier part of the 19th century, and don't show up in any great number until the middle phase of the Victorian era. Eventually, they were designed for almost every pattern, and this trend seemed to occur as hardwood floors were becoming popular, when Wiltons et al were used as areas rugs as well as in wall-to-wall applications. By the late 1870s, a narrow runner was often designed en suite with the body and the border.

I realize that this may not have been the most riveting post ever, but it's critical to understanding the history of floorcoverings. Next week will be a bit more visual: we'll go into an overview of patterns as they evolved from 1790 through the early 20th century.

Carpet Patterns

The invention of the Jacquard loom meant that carpet (or any textile) could now be woven by machine with a repeating pattern incorporated into the fabric. The pattern's repeat could be as long as one desired; it just took a lot more of the painstakingly-made punch cards to program the loom. Some repeats were as small as four inches, while others of 48-60 inches were not unheard of. In fact, there's a weave known as a Chlidema, where the body and border are integral, and I one worked on one that was well over 30 feet long!

Before the advent of computers, carpet designers would hand-paint one quadrant of the design on graph paper; this was referred to as a point paper. It was then "flipped" left and right and front and back to create the whole. (Similar to when you cut out paper snowflakes in art class).

Brussels Carpet (note loops)

Rococo Pattern

A Brief Synopsis of the Evolution of Carpet Patterns

I'm going to break down the period of 1790-1920 into groups of a decade or two so that you can observe how carpet patterns changed with fashion. Just like all decorative arts and interior furnishings of this time, carpet designs coordinated with the popular trends of any given year. The following descriptions of pattern and color are admittedly very broad generalizations, but seeing that these posts are limited to 800 words, there's no way to do the subject justice without writing a very lengthy article or even a book. I'll freely admit in advance that there are exceptions to anything I'm about to mention…

Federal (or Regency) patterns could be floral or geometric, with both large and small repeats. The large-repeat classical patterns revealed the delicate lyricism of the Federal/Regency Period, and often, there were wreaths or architectural elements such as octagons and circles. Colors were surprisingly bright, and could feature orange and sharp blues; bear in mind that interior lighting was very dim.

The 1830s were a time of grand classical patterns, and we see the architectural elements of the Federal Period shift from stony gray to shades of bullion-like gold. Moreover, these motifs became much thicker and dense, like the Empire furniture that was placed atop it. Primary colors and strong greens were common.

Carpets patterns from 1840s were often Gothic or Elizabethan, and we also see the rise of the omnipresent Rococo Revival, which lasted almost to the end of the 19th century. The Rococo is often what folks think of when describing the Victorian Period; it conjures up visions of Tara from Gone with the Wind. Concurrently fashionable with the Rococo was the Renaissance Revival. Laypersons often have trouble discerning the two, but the Rococo was asymmetrical, and ornamented with flowers and arabesques, while the Renaissance was more architectural, based on the motifs of the Italian Renaissance, and much more symmetrical. Colors remained bright and primary based, although greens and reds shifted slightly towards Pompeiian red and Acid green, and the use of blue as the dominant color was very rare.

These styles lasted up until the mid-1870s, whereupon pattern flattened out into two-dimensionality. There was also a major shift in color palette: The hues were tertiary, with the most popular shades being olive, ochre, terra cotta and warm browns.

This marked the advent of a return to Medievalism as advocated by Charles Locke Eastlake in Hints on Household Taste and became known as the English Arts & Crafts Movement as spearheaded by William Morris. For example: Here is a three-dimensional Rococo pattern, and next to it is Morris' "Lily" from 1875.

At the same time that the Arts & Crafts Movement was gaining strength, trade with Japan opened up, stimulating a furor for all things Asian. Decorative objects from the Middle and Far East influenced the design in everything from toothpick holders to wallpaper, and suddenly Paisley and Oriental rug patterns were in vogue. Hardwood floors with area rugs became the norm, edging out wall-to-wall carpeting, even thought the latter appears until 1900 or so.

At the turn of the 19th century, there were two dominant trends of interior design which collided headlong, often within the same household: Edwardian Classicism, and American Arts & Crafts (aka Mission or Craftsman). Edwardian carpets were very similar to Neo-Classical patterns from the early 19th century, but were scaled down and more delicate. Their colors were typically jewel tones, while the Arts & Crafts patterns were very organic in color and abstracted in design.

Patterned carpet remained popular well into the 20th century, and Art Deco designs were also available, while Modernism reduced the use of patterned carpet substantially, although patterns from the 1950s do appear in archives.

Morris Lily Pattern

Edwardian Carpet

Backside of a mitered corner, note hand-sewing and latex

Putting it all together: Installers and Installation.

Because the carpets of the 18th and 19th century were woven in either 27" or 36" wide strips, they needed to be attached to each other is some manner, forming a "blanket" before they could be tacked down. To accomplish this, the strips were hand sewn together in a whip stitch with large, curved needles, and the borders, if required, were then fitted around the perimeter. Wherever the woven strips were cut, the raw edge was then sealed to prevent unraveling. Today, this sealing is done with liquid latex.

The art of attaching a carpet border and contending with the mitering of the corners is a test of the skills of an installer. A good carpet installer, or mechanic, as they were then called, can make a miter a thing of beauty. It's similar to watching a picture framer work with the fixed repeat in the border of a frame molding. With any rectangular rug, there are going to be four miters; two of them can be perfect, but the predetermined width and length of the piece dictates that the other corners will fall where they may on the repeat. The measure of a good mechanic is how well he or she decides how to finesse these arbitrary corners and how they will cut the pattern so that it has some level of continuity and is not abrupt, leaving the design motifs of the border simply hanging in mid-air as it were.

Experienced installers also determine the direction a carpet should be laid by contemplating where the entrance is into a room versus the main architectural features such as a mantel or colonnade. They always take into consideration centering the pattern underneath the chandelier or in front of the hearth, especially if the pattern contains a large medallion or other significant motif.

If a carpet is to be bordered around the perimeter of the room, it will invariably meet the hearth, and the installer, working with the client, chooses whether the border will simply run straight across the wall, as if the hearth was a mere interruption of the pattern, or in other cases, he can make a series of complex miters that wrap around the chimney breast and the hearth. The latter treatment looks very impressive, but involves much additional labor and materials.

Another challenge installers face is working with winding stairs; one installer I use frequently carpeted a five story staircase in Beacon Hill, and not only had to contend with many pie-shaped steps that connected with long hallways, but also had to accommodate the bowed treads of the stairs themselves.

Incidentally, the historic method of affixing carpet on stairs is the "Waterfall" technique, meaning the runner hangs over the nosing and leaves a triangular gap in from of the riser. The more contemporary approach is the "Hollywood" application, wherein the runner is tacked under the nosing, as well as at the base of the riser.

Wall to wall carpets used to be affixed to the floor with carpet tacks, but now, tackless strips are used, unless a museum specifies an authentic installation. (In some cases carpets were held down with pins and grommets so that the carpet could be taken up for cleaning.)

Once a wall to wall carpet is tacked down, the installer lightly sprinkles water over it with a broom, causing the wool carpet to contract, which yields a taut surface. In the case of an area rug, the carpeting is tacked down on the workroom floor and wet. This technique is called blocking.

I've worked with perhaps a dozen or so installers over the years, but there are three firms who I've used constantly, depending on location. All of them are brilliant and unflappable in the face of challenge, and they have saved my butt countless times. They take unrivaled pride in their work, and never say "It'll do." These folks will sew through a weekend to make a deadline, and then drive heroic distances to install the finished carpet for a museum opening. I'm mentioning them in alphabetical order, not in order of skill or quality. So here's to you:

Bob, Leslie and Brian Gfroerer of Cincinnati, OH

David and Charlene Hunt of Bristol, VT

John and Max Turell of Somerville, MA

It seems fitting to end this series in praise of the folks who work wonders on behalf of me and my clients. More than me, they're the ones keeping this facet of historic floorcoverings alive.