HISTORIC HOMES

OF NEW ENGLAND

PREFACE

It has been a great pleasure to be allowed to visit these old mansions, which show wonderful staircases, richly carved mantels, and colonial windows, each one of which is an architectural gem. Through pictured homes like these one is given a deeper interest in the early life of our country and realizes more than ever before what the colonial period stood for in home building.

I wish to acknowledge the kindness of my many friends in helping me to make this book possible, particularly Mrs. Charles M. Stark of Dunbarton, New Hampshire, for use of the old Stark mansion; the Colonial Dames of Massachusetts, for allowing correct representations in pictures of the Quincy Mansion; the New Hampshire Society of the Sons of Cincinnati, for the use of the Ladd-Gilman House; Miss Caroline O. Emmerton of Salem, for permission to show the historic House of Seven Gables; the Historical Society of Marblehead, for the use of the Lee Mansion; the Medford Daughters of the Revolution, for the old Royall House; the Dalton Club of Newburyport, who have thrown open their club-house to be pictured; Mrs. Jacob C. Rogers of Boston and Peabody; Mr. Jacob C. Peabody of Danvers; as well as many others, including Mr. John Pickering of Salem, who have allowed me access to their houses.

We of New England are deeply interested in our historic homes, and it is to the lover of the colonial that I wish to show by picture and text the wonderful old mansions that are still in our midst, which have done much to bring New England into prominence in the architectural world of to-day.

MARY H. NORTHEND.
August 15, 1914.

CONTENTS

LIST OF PLATES

CHAPTER I

Scattered here and there throughout the South, the Middle West, and the New England States, we find the homes of long ago standing as mute witnesses and representatives of periods in our country's settlements that have become historical. We come across them by the wayside, when driving along country roads, or we catch glimpses of them at the end of grassy lanes, surrounded by pleasant meadows, while others, jutting in between twentieth century houses in our large cities, serve to link the old days with the new. These old mansions are often tenantless; some, with sagging roofs and gaping sides, are fast falling into decay. Still others, well preserved and freshly painted, surrounded by the well kept lawns and posy beds of our grandmothers' time, are survivals of a glorious past.

Old houses are like old romances; both are filled with mystery. Could they but speak, what fascinating tales they would reveal. They carry us back in imagination to one of the most eventful periods of our country's life—that of its struggle for freedom—and they inspire us with a desire to weave them into stories that will give authentic glimpses of the days when our country was young. Surrounding these ancient landmarks we find an irresistible and intangible charm that never fails to appeal, not only to the house-lover but the antiquarian as well. For, no matter how shabby the exterior may be, inside its four walls has been enacted a series of comedies and tragedies, which, if known, might overshadow the romances of the great masters of literature.

In spite of the mystery surrounding these old homesteads, there is, nevertheless, something definite about them which has for the student of the past a deep meaning and a distinct appeal.

Harking back, we find that each particular type of house represents a stage in the development of architecture. They cover a period when architects were practically unknown. Many were evolved from the master builder's brain, while others have been developed little by little from early designs. Monuments of departed days, they stand models to which our present-day architects turn for inspiration.

Few, if any, of the first houses are still standing. They were constructed of logs and had thatched roofs. The timber was, at first, hand sawed in saw pits dug for that purpose, a tedious process. Later on, sawmills were erected, but not in sufficient number to meet the demand for frame houses.

The second period of house building brought out a new idea in construction. Some of these houses were built with two stories in front and one in the rear, this lower story being covered by an extension of the sloping roof. The most imposing of this type were those which were designed with gables at the front and chambers underneath.

In those days, the best kinds of lumber were plentiful, so the frame could be built of picked wood, preferably white oak. In houses of this style, the outer walls were daubed with clay, covered with boards. At first, they were called clay boards, the name being afterwards corrupted to clapboards. Lime was rarely used in daubing, since lime was obtainable only by burning shells. Sometimes clay was intermixed with straw. Many windows had small, diamond panes, set in lead cases. These may be found to-day in some of the old houses that have escaped vandalism. The windows were often divided into two parts and opened outward.

The entrance hall in these old homes led into a large and imposing apartment. On the walls were hung frames containing hair flowers and funeral pieces wrought by hand. This was known as the "company" or "guest" room, used only on state occasions. The principal room was the kitchen with its sanded floor, often laid herring-bone pattern. This was used as a dining-room and kitchen combined. Through the center of the house ran a chimney six feet square, around which clustered the closets, many of them secret. Here were concealed the family treasures, plate, and perchance a refugee. The family gathering place was the kitchen. It requires little imagination to repeople it with guests. Seemingly, we watch the elders seated on large, wooden settles inside the fireplace, roasting their faces, while they freeze their backs. The old iron crane swings outward, holding the jack, spit, and pot hooks. The Dutch oven covered with ashes contains the evening meal.

The only light save the firelight was the pitch-pine torch, by whose flickering flame one read or sewed. Close at hand on a nail hung the old horn lantern ready for use, either to tend the stock or light a visiting neighbor home. It is an appealing picture of colonial life.

Among the old houses there are none so full of interest as those which have been carefully preserved in the same family, handed down from generation to generation. Over the threshold of these homes have passed men and women whose names are linked irretrievably with important events in our nation's history.

In the early history of our country, few seaport towns stand out in bolder relief than Salem, Massachusetts, a city noted at the commencement of the nineteenth century for her commercial prosperity, and whose ships sailed to every port on the globe. These ships were small, clumsy affairs, but staunch in build. The cargoes were valuable ventures, sent by Salem merchants who were fearless plungers. The flavor of the sea still lingers about this seaport town, particularly along Derby Street, where, in the prosperous shipping days, social life was centered.

Years crept on apace, and the country grew more prosperous with the increase of population; and in the seaport town, more especially, came a demand for larger and better houses. Money circulated freely, and ventures proved successful. Trade steadily increased, bringing prosperity in its wake. Commerce was at its height, and the harbor was filled with incoming and outgoing ships, whose holds were stored with rich cargoes of household goods, furniture, and glass, intermixed with merchandise. Much of the valuable furniture is still to be found in the houses of to-day.

The story of those stirring times reads like a bit of romance. The tide still ebbs and flows at Derby Street, lapping the piers much as it did a century ago, when ships four tiers deep lay tied up at the now deserted wharves. The crews were boys, many of them, sons of the merchants, who, from sailing before the mast, rose rapidly to positions of importance, becoming captains of their ships at an age when the lads of to-day are just leaving school.

Like a dream seems the life of long ago. No more, save in imagination, do we see the jolly sailor lads with sea legs on, bowling along Derby Street, bound for Kit's Dancing Hall, there to indulge themselves in merry dance or quench their thirst at the flowing bowl. The Old Inn or Ordinary has long since passed away, as has the lumbering stage and jolly drivers, who snapped their whips and cracked their jokes around a cheerful, open fire while waiting for the incoming ships. The large, square homes of yesterday are now degenerated into tenement houses.

Three of the most prominent merchants of that day were William Grey, Joseph Peabody, and Elias Hasket Derby. They owned the greater number of the ships that sailed to foreign ports, and their names are household words. On the wharves still stand their old counting-houses, now put to other uses.

With the decline of commerce and the decrease of shipping, the tide of building turned inland. Large, imposing houses were erected in other parts of the town. Elias Hasket Derby chose as a site for his new house what is now known as Derby Square. The estate was a large one, terraced to the water's edge. The house was of wood, three stories in height, and costing eighty thousand dollars. Much of Samuel McIntire's best wood work was used here. Not many months after its completion, the owner died, and his entire estate was sold. The house was torn down, much of the timber being used in other houses that were in the process of building. Captain Cook was at that time erecting for his daughter, who married Henry K. Oliver, a stately home on Federal Street. Into this were introduced some of the best specimens of the wood carving. This mansion was a type that came into prominence at the close of the Revolutionary War, a large, square house, three stories in height, showing in exterior finish many of McIntire's best designs. The gate-posts on either side of the little picket gate were especially carved for the old Derby Mansion, as were the classic columns that support the porch. Not only outside the house but inside as well, one comes across McIntire's wonderful carving. Step over the threshold, enter the spacious hallway, that like most constructed in that day extends entirely through the house and opens on to an old-fashioned garden beyond. Here the door frames and stairway show the master's handiwork. The broad landing is lighted by a window especially designed. Large, square rooms open on either side of the hall, the one at the right showing scenic wall-paper made in Paris and hung in 1808. A feature of this room is a hob-grate, one of the first ever placed in any Salem home.

The old merchants knew well how to build for comfort and beauty. One of their old houses, still standing on Essex Street, Salem, was built in 1750 by one Joseph Sprague, a merchant. It is a rambling, spacious affair, three stories in height at the rear and two at the front. The grounds were extensive, leading to the water's edge.

Major Sprague was a man of standing, interested in military affairs. It was he that commanded the first uniformed company of light infantry. Organized on April 22, 1776, they applied to the General Court to make them independent of the militia but not of the regiment. In those days their uniform was much more striking than at present. Green coats with gold trimming were worn, also ruffled shirts, the ruffles falling over the hands, under dresses of white, black gaiters, and black hats of beaver ornamented with ostrich plumes. This company soon disbanded.

The ancestral home of Major Sprague has never been out of the family. It was built by him for his bride. Lifting the ponderous knocker, one enters the open door, passing into a broad hallway with a colonial staircase showing fine, hand-carved balusters. Opening out of this are large, square rooms, filled with rich, old Chippendale. Much of this was brought over in the major's ships. Huge open fireplaces are found in every room. One of them is surrounded by tiles, picturing Æsop's fables.

Closets innumerable, such as would delight the heart of a twentieth-century housekeeper, are everywhere. There are large ones and small ones. Sometimes, concealed behind panels, were secret closets, but the most important of all, as well as the most historical, has disappeared. This was used in Revolutionary times to shelter one of the servants, a deserter from the Continental Army, who was discovered and shot.

Major Sprague had a comely daughter Sarah, who was a reigning belle of that day. Her beauty attracted the attention of one William Stearns, a Harvard collegian, who lived in the Craigie House at Cambridge, afterwards the home of Longfellow. Every Saturday night he swam the unbridged Mystic River and walked to Salem to see her. They were married in 1776 and lived in the town. He was one of the largest stockholders in the turnpike road built between Salem and Boston, and the story runs that he declared after it was finished he would be able to stand on the steps of his Salem home and look directly into the Boston market. A son of the fair Sarah married Thresea St. Agnan from Trinidad. She was an intimate of Josephine Tascher de La Pageree, afterwards the consort of Napoleon. A beautiful gold-banded tortoise-shell comb is still kept in the family, a present from Josephine to Agnes.

Many are the interesting historical houses to be found in this city, each of which has a story hidden away under its roof. One of these standing next to the Old Witch House was owned originally by a Captain Davenport. It is mentioned as early as 1662. Later, the captain removed to Boston to take charge of the fortification at Castle Island and on July 15, 1665, was killed "By a solemn stroke of thunder." The estate was then conveyed to one Jonathan Corwan, afterwards called Curwin, a man of prominence in the witchcraft trial through being appointed one of the judges.

Later on his grandson Samuel, an exceedingly interesting man with a most irascible disposition, lived in the same mansion. Graduated from Harvard in 1735, he became a merchant, afterwards taking part in the Pepperrell Expedition against Louisburg as captain and rose to the rank of "Judge of Admiralty." Espousing the cause of the Loyalists, he was forced to leave for England. Returning in 1784, he found his estate in a very bad condition, most of his valuable library having been sold. For many years afterwards he was a prominent gentleman in the life of the city and was often seen walking the streets, wearing his English wig, clothed in a long cloak of red cloth, his fingers covered with rings, and using a gold-headed cane as he walked.

There is no purer type of colonial house in the city by the sea, than the Cabot House, built by one Joseph Cabot in 1748 and which was for thirty years the residence of William Crowninshield Endicott, who served under President Cleveland as Secretary of War.

Near Derby Street stands the house made famous by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Here, in May, 1840, he called to see his cousin "The Duchess," Miss Susan Ingersoll, on which occasion she told him the story of the house, and the name struck him so forcibly that he is said to have repeated it again and again as if to impress it on his memory. From this incident we have the romance of The House of the Seven Gables.

CHAPTER II