Read Ebook: Colonial Homes and Their Furnishings by Northend Mary Harrod

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It was here on summer afternoons that our grandmothers loved to come for a social cup of tea, knitting while breathing in the sweet-scented air, permeated with the fragrance of single and double peonies, phlox, roses, and bushes of syringa. Tall hollyhocks swayed in the breeze, holding their stately cups stiff and upright, and there were tiger lilies, as well as the dielytra, with its row of hanging pink and white blossoms, from which the children made boats, rabbits, and other fantastic figures.

In some of the old-time gardens, the small, thorny Scotch roses intermingled with the red and white roses of York and Lancaster. Little wonder that the perfume of their blooms was wafted through the air, although they were hidden among the taller roses, and there was no visible trace of their presence.

One walked along the broad sidewalks of the old-time cities, expecting to find at every turn a garden of flowers. Not even a glimpse did they obtain, for the gardens of those days were not in view, but hidden away behind high board fences which have now in many cases been changed for iron ones, thus giving to the public glimpses of the central arbor and the long line of path with brilliant bloom on either side.

One reason that the gardens in the olden days were hidden from view was that the houses, more especially the Salem ones, were built close to the sidewalk, and there was no chance for flowers in front or at either side.

Most of the noted old gardens have long since become things of the past, but a few are still left to give hints of the many that long ago were the pride of New England housewives. The estate of the late Captain Joseph Peabody at Danvers, Massachusetts, was at one time famed for its old-fashioned garden. This lay to the right of the avenue of trees that formed the driveway to the house. These trees were planted in 1816 by Joseph Augustus Peabody, the elder son of the owner. The garden proper was hidden from view, as one passed up the driveway, but lay at the front of the house. In its center was a large tulip tree, which still stands, said to be one of the oldest and largest in the country. One of the unique features of the grounds, and one that has existed since the days of Captain Peabody's occupancy, is a small summer-house, showing lattice work and graceful arches. Its top is dome-shaped, surmounted by a gilded pineapple.

There is, however, another historic summer-house on this estate. It was formerly on the Elias Hasket Derby property, and was built about 1790. This was purchased by the present owner of the estate, who had it moved to her grounds, a distance of four miles, without a crack in the plaster. It was built by Samuel McIntyre, and is decorated with the pilaster and festoons that are characteristic of his workmanship. Four urns and a farmer whetting his scythe adorn the top. Originally a companion piece was at the other end, representing a milkmaid with her pail. This latter figure was long ago sold by the former owner and placed with a spindle in its hand on the Sutton Mills at Andover, Massachusetts, where it stood for many years until destroyed by fire. The house itself contains a tool room on the lower floor, while at the head of the staircase is a large room, sixteen feet square, containing eight windows and four cupboards. It is hung with Japanese lanterns, and the closets are filled with wonderful old china. Its setting of flowers is most appropriate.

At Oak Knoll in Danvers is still left the garden that the poet Whittier so much loved. It stands at the side of the house, bordering the avenue that leads from the entrance gate. The paths have box borders, and inside is a wealth of bloom, the central feature being a fountain which was a gift from Whittier to the mistress of the home. It was here he loved to come during the warm summer afternoons to pace up and down, doubtless thinking over and shaping many of his most noted poems. The garden has been carefully tended, and it shows to-day the same flowers that were in their prime during his life.

Another fine example of a box-bordered, old-time garden is seen at Newburyport, Massachusetts, on the estate of Mrs. Charles Perry. Here the colonial house stands back from the main road, with a long stretch of lawn at the front. Passing out of the door at the rear, one comes upon a courtyard with moss-grown flagging that leads directly to the garden itself, fragrant with the incense of old-time blooms.

At Indian Hill, the summer home of the late Major Benjamin Perley Poore at West Newbury, much care has been given to the gardens to keep the flowers as they were in the olden days. A feature of this estate, in addition to the gardens, is a shapely grove of trees at the rear of the mansion, that took first prize years ago as being the finest and best-shaped specimens in the county. Many of these trees were named for the major's friends, and they bear names well known to New Englanders.

More than a century ago, when Salem was the trade center of the world, her gardens were renowned. These gardens were at the rear of the dwellings, and it was here that the host and his guests came for their after-dinner smoke, surrounded by the flowers that they loved.

The first improvements in garden culture were made by one George Heussler, who, according to Captain Jonathan P. Felt, came to America in 1780, bringing with him a diploma given him by his former employers. Previous to this period he had served an apprenticeship in the gardens of several German princes, as well as in that of the king of Holland, and was, in consequence, well qualified for the work. The first experience he had in America in gardening was at the home of John Tracy in Newburyport, where he worked faithfully for several years. Ten years afterwards he came to Salem to take charge of the farm and garden of Elias Hasket Derby, Senior, at Danvers, and later worked in other gardens in the city of Salem, where he lived until his death in 1817.

From the records we glean that on October 21, 1796, Mr. Heussler gave notice that he had choice fruit trees for sale at Mr. Derby's farm, while a newspaper of that date informs us that the latter gentleman had recently imported valuable trees from India and Africa and that he had "an extensive nursery of useful plants in the neighborhood of his rich garden." His son, E. Hersey Derby, had a garden of great dimensions at his estate in South Salem, or, as it was then called, South Fields. This was in 1802, and for a long time the fame of this rare and beautiful garden was retained.

Who knows how many romances have been enacted in the old-fashioned gardens of long ago! They were fascinating places for lovers to wander and in their vine-clad summer-houses many a love-tale was told. The sight of an old-time garden recalls to-day the early owners, and in imagination one can hear the swish of silken skirts as the mistress of the home saunters down the central path to take tea with friends in her beloved arbor. There were warm friendships among neighbors in those days, and the summer season was marked by a daily interchange of visits; and so the old-time garden is fraught with memories of bygone festivities and perchance of gossip.

After the close of commerce, the Derby Street houses, formerly occupied by the old merchants, gradually became deserted, and new houses were sought in different parts of the town, farther removed from shipping interests. Chestnut Street was the location of many of these new homes, and here the beautiful old-fashioned gardens were shown at their best. These were usually inclosed, and were reached by a side door, opening directly into a veritable wealth of bloom.

The Humphrey Devereux house stands almost directly across the street from the Allen house. This garden, under the care of the next owner, Captain Charles Hoffman, became famous, for here the first camellias and azaleas in this country were planted. One of the former plants is still seen in a greenhouse in Salem. Captain Hoffman had a well-trained gardener, named Wilson, whose care gave this garden a distinctive name in the city. This garden is now the property of Dr. James E. Simpson, and it shows like no other the direct influence of olden times. There is the same vine-clad arbor for the central figure, and the plants which are grown behind box borders are the same that grew in our grandmothers' time. This scheme has been carefully carried out by the mistress of the house, who is passionately fond of the old-time blossoms.

In the garden of the Cabot house on Essex Street, the first owner of the house imported tulips from Holland, and, during the time of their blossoming, threw open the garden to friends. The later owners improved the garden by adding rare specimens of peonies and other plants, and have kept the same effects, adding to the gardens' beauty each year.

While the old-fashioned garden has gone into decline, yet the modern-day enthusiast has brought into his formal gardens the flowers of yesterday. The artistic possibilities of these have appealed so strongly to the flower lover that they have been restored to their own once more. The box border is practically a thing of the past, having been replaced by flower borders of mignonette and sweet alyssum, which afford a fine setting for the beds. Like pictures seem these old-fashioned gardens, framed with thoughts of days long gone by, and one unconsciously sighs for those days that are gone, taking with them the sweet odor of the flowers that grew in our grandmothers' time.

HALLS AND STAIRWAYS

The colonial hall as we have come to think of it--dignified and spacious, with characteristics of unrivaled beauty--was not the type in vogue in the first years of the country's settlement, but rather was the outgrowth of inherent tendencies, reflecting in a measure the breadth and attractiveness of the English hallway.

The earliest dwellings were built for comfort, with little regard for effect, and they showed no hallways, only a rude entrance door giving directly upon the general and often only apartment. Sometimes this door was sheltered on the outside by a quaint closed porch, which afforded additional warmth and protection from the driving storms of rain or snow; but it was never anything more than a mere comfort-seeking appendage, boasting no pretentions whatever to architectural merit. Crude, indeed, such entrances must have seemed to the stern Puritan dwellers, in comparison with those of their ancestral abodes; and it is not to be wondered at if in secret they sometimes longed for the hallways of their boyhood, where, after the evening meal in the winter season, the family was wont to gather about the roaring fire, perchance to listen to some tale of thrilling adventure.

The first American hall came in with the building of the frame house, erected after the early hardships were over, and the colonists could afford to abandon their rude cabin domiciles. This was really little more than an entry, rarely characterized by any unusual features, but it served as a sort of introduction to the home proper, and was dignified by the title of hallway. The hall in the old Capen house at Topsfield, Massachusetts, belongs to this type.

Later came the more pretentious hall, typical of the gambrel roof house, that enjoyed so long a period of popularity. This was generally a narrow passage, with doors opening at either side into the main front apartments, and with the staircase at the end rising in a series of turns to the rooms above. The first turn often contained in one corner a small table, which held a candlestick and candle used to light a guest to bed, or a grandfather's clock, the dark wood of its casing serving as an effective contrast to the otherwise light finish of the apartment.

Not infrequently the hall was solidly paneled, and a built-in cupboard or like device was sometimes concealed behind the paneling; or, as in a dwelling in Manchester, Massachusetts, it contained an innovation in the form of a broad space opened between two high beams, halfway up the staircase, arranged, no doubt, for the display of some choice possession, and showing beneath a motto of religious import.

In the better class of houses of this period, the hallway sometimes extended the width of the dwelling, opening at the rear on to the yard space. This type was the forerunner of the stately attractive hall that came into vogue in the last half of the eighteenth century, and continued in favor during the first years of the nineteenth century, with the advent of the wooden and brick mansion.

Belonging to the earlier class are the Warner and Stark halls in New Hampshire. The former is paneled from floor to ceiling, the white of the finish now mellowed to ivory tones, and serving to display to advantage the fine furnishings with which it is equipped. At the rear it opens upon a grassy yard space, shaded by tall trees, thought to be the site of the old slave quarters, long since demolished. The walls show several adornments, among the most interesting being the enormous antlers of an elk, which, tradition tells, were presented to the builder of the dwelling by some of the Indians with whom he traded, as an evidence of their friendship and good will. The latter hall is of similar type, entered through a narrow door space and continuing the width of the dwelling; it ends at the rear in a quaint old door that shows above its broad wooden panels a row of green bull's eyes, specimens of early American glass manufacture, still rough on the inside where detached from the molding bar. This door gives upon an old-time garden plot, fragrant with the blooms of its original planting, and preserving intact its early features. Rare bits of old furniture are used in the equipment of this hall, and the paneled walls are hung with family portraits.

When unwearied toil had made living considerably easier, and many of the merchants had amassed fortunes, there sprang up, in both the North and the South, those charming colonial mansions that were the fit abode of a brave race. They demanded hallways of spacious dimensions, and into favor then came the broad and lofty hall, embodying in its construction the highest development of the colonial type. Quite through the center of the house this hall extended, from the pillared portico and stately entrance door, with its fan lights and brazen knocker, to another door at the rear, through the glazed upper panels of which tantalizing glimpses could be obtained of tall hollyhocks and climbing roses growing in the old-fashioned garden just without.

In a measure this hall was a reproduction of the English type, particularly in its spaciousness of dimension. Unlike this type, however, it lacked the dominant influence of the fireplace, and in its construction it showed several independent features, all tending to emphasize the attractive dignity suggested in the broadness of outline. Often an elliptical arch spanned the width at about one third the length, generally serving to frame the staircase, and tending to make dominant the attractiveness of this feature. This was usually little more than a skeleton arch, being a suggestion, rather than a reality, sometimes plain, and sometimes slightly ornamental. This feature is shown in the Lee hall at Salem, and in the main hall of the old Governor Wentworth house at Little Harbor, New Hampshire. This latter hall is particularly interesting, not only for its beauty of construction, but also for its historic associations. Under its arch, framing the fine old staircase, men prominent in the history of the State and country have passed, and on the walls and over the door are still seen stacks of arms, thirteen in number, the muskets of the governor's guard, so long dismissed.

The most important feature of all these halls was the staircase, and in its construction the greatest interest was centered. Generally it ascended by broad, low treads to a landing lighted by a window of artistic design, and continued in a shorter flight to the second floor apartments. It was always located at one side, and generally near the rear, to allow the placing of furniture without crowding. The balusters were usually beautifully carved and hand turned, with newel posts of graceful design; and sometimes even the risers showed carved effects. The cap rail was usually of mahogany. Hard wood was sometimes used in the construction of the staircase, the treads in this event being dark and polished, while soft wood painted white was also much used.

The finish of the walls in this type of hall varied. Some were entirely paneled, others showed a quaint landscape paper above a low white wainscot, and still others showed hangings of pictorial import, framed like great pictures. To the last-named class belongs the Lee hall at Marblehead, considered to be one of the finest examples of its type extant. Black walnut is the wood finish here, and the hangings, designed by a London artist, are in soft tones of gray, beautifully blended, and represent scenes of ruined Greece, each set in a separate panel, handsomely carved.

Occasionally, to-day, a staircase of the spiral type is found,--a type that possesses certain satisfying characteristics, but which never enjoyed the popularity of the straight staircase. Some few of the staircases in the old Derby Street mansions at Salem are of this type, as is the staircase at Oak Knoll, in Danvers, the poet Whittier's last residence. The common name for this type of staircase was winder.

A large number of representatives of the finest type of the colonial hall are scattered throughout the North and South, and their sturdiness of construction bids fair to make them valued examples indefinitely. One particularly good example is shown at Hey Bonnie Hall, in Bristol, Rhode Island, a mansion built on Southern lines, and suggesting in its construction the hospitality of that section. Here the hall is twenty feet wide; the walls are tinted their original coloring, a soft rich green, that harmonizes perfectly with the white woodwork and the deep, mellow tones of the priceless old mahogany of the furnishings. A well-designed, groined arch forming a portion of the ceiling, and supported at the corners by four slender white pillars, is one of the apartment's attractive adjuncts, while the dominant feature is the staircase that rises at the farther end, five feet in width, with treads of solid mahogany and simple but substantial balusters of the same wood on either side. The upper hall is as distinctive as the lower one, and exactly corresponds in length and width. Wonderful old furnishings are placed here, and at one end is displayed a fine bit of architectural work in a fanlight window, overlooking the garden.

One wonders, when viewing such a hall as this, how this type could ever have been superseded in house construction, but with the gradual decline in favor of the colonial type of dwelling, it was abolished, and in place of its lofty build and attractive spaciousness, halls of cramped dimensions came into vogue, culminating in the entry passage typical of houses built toward the middle of the nineteenth century. Happily, present-day house builders are coming to a realizing sense of the importance of the hallway, and are beginning to appreciate the fact that, to be attractive, the hall must be ample, well lighted, and of pleasing character. With this realization the beauty of the colonial hall has again demanded attention, and in a large number of modern homes it has been copied in a modified degree.

FIREPLACES AND MANTELPIECES

It is a far cry from the fireplaces of early times to those of the present, when elaborate fittings make them architecturally notable. We read that in the Middle Ages, the fire in the banquet hall was laid on the floor in the center of the large apartment, the smoke from the blazing logs, as it curled slowly upward, escaping through a hole cut in the ceiling. Later, during the Renaissance period, the fire was laid close to the wall, the space set apart for it framed with masonry jambs that supported a mantel shelf. A projecting hood of stone or brick carried the smoke away, and the jambs were useful, inasmuch as they protected the fire from draughts. From this time, the evolution of the fireplace might be said to date, improvement in its arrangement being worked out gradually, until to-day it is numbered among the home's most attractive features. It is interesting to note, in reference to these latter-day specimens, that many of them are similar in design to those of the Renaissance, Louis Sixteenth, and colonial periods.

Not a few of the early fireplaces were of the inglenook type, a fad that has been revived and is much in evidence in modern dwellings; and many of them followed certain periods, such as the Queen Anne style and the Elizabethan design. Several, too, were topped with mantels, features practical as well as ornamental, which are almost always associated with the fireplaces of to-day. Many of the old mantels were very narrow, prohibiting ornamentation with pottery or small bits of bric-a-brac; they were so built, because the designers of early times considered them sufficiently decorative in themselves without any additional embellishment, and their sturdiness and architectural regularity seem to justify this opinion. Mantels and fireplaces of early Renaissance type show in detail an elegance that is characteristic of all the work of that period, the Italian designers being masters in their line.

In the baronial halls of Merrie England, we find huge fireplaces, wide enough to hold the Yule log, around which, after the chase, the followers gathered to drink deep of the wassail bowl. Such pictures must have lingered long in the minds of the colonists in their new surroundings, and to us they are suggestive of the Squire in "Old Christmas," who, seated in his great armchair, close by the fire, contentedly smoked his pipe and gazed into the heart of the flickering flames, filled with the joy of his ancestral possessions.

Life with the early colonists was a stern reality. The climate here was far more rigorous than that of the motherland, and a home and a warm fire were the two necessities first demanded. Logs from the near-by forest afforded the former, while rocks taken from the clearings supplied the latter. The fireplaces of those days were perhaps the largest ever built in any land, some ten feet or more in depth, and broad enough to hold the logs which were stacked just outside the cabin door. The rude stones which formed the fireplace were piled wall fashion, the largest at the bottom and the smallest on top, the chinks between made strong by daubings of clay. Later, the builders gave a more finished effect to this feature, and the hearths were then extended many feet into the single large apartment, while on either side were placed rude, home-made benches with high backs, to shield the inmates from the cold felt outside the circle of the fire's warmth.

At the rear of the fireplace was arranged a huge backlog, to afford protection to the stones, and also to throw the heat into the room. This was often of unseasoned timber, that it might last the longer, two feet in diameter, and eight feet or more in length. Firedogs were used to hold the smaller logs, while creepers were employed for the smallest of all, and to start the fire, small pine boughs and small timbers were heaped high, flint and tinder serving to ignite them. Once started, the fire was kept indefinitely, being carefully covered at night or piled with peat; above the blaze swung the soot-blackened crane, with its various pots and kettles. Such was the early colonial kitchen, the fireplace its dominant feature, the light from its glowing logs throwing into relief the sanded floor, bare, unplastered walls, and the rafters overhead. With the coming of prosperity, these rude log huts gave way to timber houses, two stories in height, and with their advent the better type of colonial fireplaces came into vogue.

Dating as far back as the earliest fireplaces are found fire sets, as they were sometimes called, comprising the hearth accessories necessary for an open fire. The oldest of these sets, which were in use long before coal was burned as fuel, consisted usually of a pair of andirons, a long-handled fire shovel, and a pair of tongs. In some cases more than one set of andirons was included, for in the great, cavernous fireplaces of the colonists' log cabins, the high supports used for the heavy forestick and logs were not suitable for the smaller wood, and creepers had to be set between the large andirons to hold the short sticks in place. Bellows were often found beside the fireplace in those times, but the poker was rarely if ever included in fire sets, previous to the introduction of coal as a fuel.

In material and design these fire sets, particularly the andirons, differed widely. Iron, steel, copper, and brass were the metals most commonly used for their construction, although in other countries even silver was occasionally made into fire irons. As for design, they ranged from the very simplest and most unpretentious styles up through the quaint dogs' heads to the grotesque figures and elaborately wrought pieces to be found among good collections of antique hearth accessories.

Andirons for kitchen use were as a rule very plain and substantial. Sometimes they were merely straight pieces supported by short legs and having uprights of either plain or twisted metal, topped by small knots of some sort. They were probably most commonly made of iron, and not a few were rudely hammered and shaped on the pioneer blacksmith's anvil. It is consequently little to be wondered at that many of the andirons once used in colonial kitchens give one the impression of having been designed for strength and utility rather than for ornament.

The better class of andirons in use during the seventeenth and early part of the eighteenth centuries were for the most part of graceful, but, at the same time, simple and dignified designs. The finest ones were of brass, which was kept brightly polished by the energetic housekeeper. Short knobs or uprights were often placed a few inches back of the main uprights and served the double purpose of holding the forestick in place and of protecting the shining brass. Occasionally andirons were made in rights and lefts with the shanks curving outward from the short knobs where they joined the straight, horizontal supports.

Among other popular andiron designs of this period were the twisted flame, the urn topped, the queer iron and brass dogs with claw feet, the colonial baluster, and the steeple topped. Of these, the steeple-topped andirons were perhaps the rarest, while the colonial baluster pattern with ball tops was, without doubt, the most popular and commonly used.

A good example of the style of andirons which came into favor during the latter half of the eighteenth century is found in the Hessian design. They take their name from the fact that the upright of each iron is cast in the form of a Hessian soldier, posed as if in the act of marching. Since this particular pattern first made its appearance immediately after the close of the American Revolution, it is not difficult to comprehend its significance, for it is a well-known fact that the patriotic colonists heartily hated the hired allies in the employ of King George of England who had fought against them. This humbling of the Hessian to service among the flames and ashes, although only in effigy, seemed to afford the Americans a great deal of satisfaction, if the great popularity of these andirons stood for anything.

Probably no finer collection of colonial hearths is to be found anywhere than in Salem. The Derby Street mansions even now show wonderful bits of the skill which has made Salem a name synonymous of the best in the architectural world. McIntyre designed many of these, following in some cases the style of the decorator, Adams. Many of the mantels show a wonderful harmony of contour, capped by a simple shelf, for the most part unadorned. One such is seen in the Gove house on Lynde Street, its straight, simple lines affording dignity and grace that are most attractive. The decoration is the head of Washington, fixing the period of its construction about the time of the Revolution.

Other popular decorations were the eagle, which came into favor at the same period as the Washington decoration, baskets of flowers, wonderfully delicate in their carving, garlands, and many such designs, in all of which McIntyre shows a versatility that, considering the limitations of his day, is truly remarkable.

While many of the mantels were of wood, some few were of marble. Two such of special interest are to be found, one in the Thomas Sanders's house on Chestnut Street, and the other in Hon. David M. Little's residence on the same thoroughfare. The former shows an exquisite design, supported on either side by caryatids, gracefully carved; and the latter, of the same period, is practically of the same design. A third marble mantel is found in the home of the Salem Club, formerly the residence of Captain Joseph Peabody. This mantel is of Florentine marble and was imported by the captain in 1819. It is particularly beautiful in its finish, and has served as an inspiration for many similar mantels to be found in New England.

Belonging to the early type is the quaint fireplace found in the hallway of the Robinson house on Chestnut Street. This apartment was formerly the kitchen, and the fireplace in its original condition was discovered in the process of remodeling. Upon investigation, it was found to be a composite of three separate fireplaces, built one within the other, and culminating outwardly in a small grate; and when opened, it showed portions of the old pothooks. It was restored to its original aspect, appearing to-day as it was first constructed, its narrow mantel adorned with rare bits of pewter.

In what was formerly the home of Mrs. Nathaniel B. Mansfield in Salem, is a curious mantel, which was first owned by Mr. Fabens. It is one of the rarest bits of McIntyre's work, decorated with his best wrought and finest planned carving. Another fine mantel is in the home of Hon. George von L. Meyer at Hamilton, Massachusetts. This is as historic as it is beautiful, and was part of the original equipment of the Crowninshield house in Boston.

Many of the later style fireplaces, more especially of the better class, showed firebacks. These were of iron, and were designed to keep the back of the fireplace from cracking. Some of these old firebacks had flowers for ornamentation, while others showed decoration in the form of family coats-of-arms. In the Pickering house on Broad Street, Salem, is a quaint fireback which was made in the first iron foundry at Saugus, now Lynn. This has on the back the initials of the then owners of the dwelling, John and Alice Pickering, inscribed as follows, "J. A. P. 1660." This same Alice Pickering was very fond of dress, and an old record of 1650 tells that she wore to church a silken hood. For this offense she was reprimanded and brought before the church, but was allowed to go when it was learned that she was worth two hundred pounds.

The popularity of the fireplace was somewhat checked in 1745 through the invention of the Franklin stove, which immediately came into favor. These stoves were constructed of iron, with trimmings of rosettes and railing and knobs of varying size; in appearance they were very similar to the small, open fireplace with andirons for burning logs. As heat producers, however, they were a decided improvement over the old-time hearth, which in many cases smoked abominably, and sent much of the heat up the chimney instead of into the room. The new stoves proved economical, and there was but little waste of heat through the pipes connecting them with the chimneys.

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