Category Archives: Historic Houses

August 31, 2026

Green Mountain Gothic

By daseger

I felt that I needed one more road trip before I start school later this week, so I headed to Vermont by myself to engage in some intensive “house hunting.” For me, a road trip has to have some kind of quest beyond just seeing the scenery and I’ve long wanted to chart Gothic Revival houses in Vermont. I spent my early childhood in Strafford, Vermont, where the Justin Morrill Homestead is located. This pink picturesque house became kind of the standard of “great” houses for me, as we had free rein in the village and I would visit it frequently. Later on we moved to southern Maine, and the nearby city of Portsmouth, New Hampshire with its colonial and Federal houses became my architectural ideal, and that focus eventually brought me to Salem. But my fascination for the more romantic Gothic continued, and I’m always seeking them out. We have a few Gothic Revivals here in Salem, including the very notable Brooks house, and down in New Bedford there are more, but in the back of my mind I’ve always associated that style with Vermont, so off I went to test my memory.

My ideal and my map.

Vermont is relatively small,  but I didn’t have time to survey the entire state, so I focused on its south central region, from Woodstock in the east, over to Poultney in the west, down to Manchester and back across to Putney. I did not confine myself to the highly detailed “Carpenter Gothic” style of the Morrill homestead, but looked for more general silhouettes. There’s a few churches here, but I think nearly every Vermont town has a Gothic-esque church with myriad variations of crenellated parapets instead of (or in addition to) spires. There is a lot of vernacular variation, and a lot of mixing of the two most prominent mid-nineteenth century styles, Gothic and Greek Revival. I based myself in Cavendish, and this was no accident, for I had seen real estate listing for an amazing mansion named Glimmerstone, and I drove straight from Salem to see it on Friday morning. What a bargain! (Be sure to look at the back in the listing)

Glimmerstone Mansion in Cavendish

Actually, I drove through the “Stone Village” of nearby Chester to get to Cavendish: this is a linear neighborhood of 1840s buildings constructed with the Scottish “snecked ashlar” technique and style, in which local rubblestone is used in varying large and small pieces to tie interior and exterior walls together: I think it’s a form of “Celtic Bond” but please feel free to correct me! In the midst of the Stone Village is a perfect little Gothic Revival church, but the rest of its buildings have a more classical style. The snecked ashlar technique clearly extended to Cavendish, and to Glimmerstone, as well as a few neighboring houses.

Chester and Cavendish: how great is this last house and terraced lawn!!!

And then I was off—across and around the state with some beautiful weather! Again, I could have taken many pictures of churches: the little white chapel in the western village of Wells below is very representative. There are also many versions of the “classic” white center gable house, sometimes with a porch, sometimes without, and with varying degrees of trim. Gothic Revival houses in Vermont are mostly made of wood (outside of Cavendish and Chester) but there was the occasional brick. Below is just a sampling, or a foundation on which I hope to build.

Gothic Revival variations in Vermont: Windsor (top three, front and back of the Townsend-McIndoe House), Rutland, Poultney, Wells, Manchester, Newfane.

11 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Architecture, Historic Houses

August 17, 2026

The Phillipses’ Library

By daseger

This is my third year working at the Phillips House of Historic New England once a week or so over the summer, and it’s been such a wonderful experience for several reasons. My colleagues are great: we’re all part-time old house people who are solely interested in showcasing the house and the family who lived there to the best of our abilities. We compare and work on our tours constantly. It has been a continuous learning experience: the house is filled to the brim with the varied possessions of this wealthy Salem family, all acquired over generations, so just capturing the contents of one corner of one room takes time. And it has been equally delightful meeting every single visitor to the house: most interested in a more comprehensive history of Salem, away from the witching crowd, but even those who wander in with little felt witch hats on seem delighted to see more or something else entirely.

When I’m working at the house, there’s always a time when there are no visitors, and that’s when I wander around and look at things with more focus and purpose. The first year, I was focused primarily on the general architecture and the McIntire woodwork in the front rooms. The second year, I studied the mirrors and artwork. And this year has been all about the books. Even though the house was constructed on Chestnut Street in 1820-21 we interpret the house about a century later, when the Phillips family moved in after an extensive renovation: it’s their house. Stephen Willard Phillips (1873-1955), his wife Anna Pingree Phillips (1870-1938) and their son “Stevie” Phillips (1907-1971) were all avid readers, and looking at their books is a great way to learn more about both them and the time in which they lived. There are about 3000 books in the house, most encased in glass-fronted bookcases. This is about half of their entire library; the remainder is in storage. I’m sure many of their books, like all of their possessions, were inherited, but there are sufficient quantity that were obviously chosen by them to reveal their personal interests. The Phillipses’ books offer an introduction to both the house and the household, as one of the first things visitors see when they enter the house is the massive Gothic Revival bookcase in the room designated as Mr. Phillips’ Library. It faces stiff competition from the McIntire mantel in the same room, but in my experience, always wins! People go right to it, and to the books within.

It’s difficult to photograph glass bookcases, but I think that you can see that there are broad swaths of color among the books, representing the classic series that most libraries of this era possess: the Harvard Classics, the Waverly novels, other “great” works. But if you look closer you see more ephemeral titles, lots of works by regional authors, lots of military history and New England history. Mr. Phillips was born in Hawaii, and assembled a large “Hawaiian Library” that he eventually donated to the other Phillips Library of the Peabody Essex Museum, so that interest is not represented here.

Other bookcases reflect the same mixture of classics and topical, more contemporary texts, and as you move back and upstairs to the more private spaces the latter becomes more dominant. This is a family which lived through two world wars (well, Mrs. Phillips died in 1938) and so was clearly seeking explanations from observers (and participants) such as Winston Churchill. Mrs. Phillips liked to read novels, and you see lots of them on the second floor but very few on the first. She also clearly liked gardening books.

Stevie’s childhood books are encased in both his second-floor bedroom and first-floor playroom, reflecting interests in everything from fairies to pirates. I would really like to read The Battle of the Nations, apparently a “family-friendly” history of World War One, to determine how it manages to be just that, but it is behind glass doors. There is an adjoining boy’s history of the Battle of the Somme! Lots of sea stories in general and tales of pirates in particular.

My favorite bookcase is just outside the master bedroom on the second floor, in a hall which has its own door so it’s really kind of a suite and therefore quite private. There’s a key closet in there too. I like the bookcase because it does not have glass—instead, it just has a simple tapes running across the shelves, and for some reason this always gives me the feeling that the Phillipses just stepped away, leaving their possessions behind. One book in particular caught my attention one day, all about the Vanderbilts, and I thought wow, I guess rich families like to read about other rich families. The rest of the books in this case are an eclectic collection: biographies, novels, contemporary affairs, local history, pamphlets,  and also reference books that look well-read. These books are not as pretty as those in Mr. Phillips’ library, but they are perhaps more reflective of the Phillipses’ lives.

 

 

 

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in books, Historic Houses, Salem

July 13, 2026

The Bryant Homestead

By daseger

This past weekend I drove out west to the lovely little town of Cummington, Massachusetts to see the summer home of journalist and poet William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878). A Federal farmhouse transformed into a Victorian “cottage” at the close of the Civil War, it possesses an impressive profile and situation and I’ve wanted to see the interior for quite a while. As a Trustees of Reservations property in a rather remote area of our state, it’s only open to the public a few times a year and I’ve never been able to make one of these dates, but I was free on July 11 so I hopped into the car. It was a beautiful, breezy, old-fashioned New England summer day, free of the humidity that seems to characterize our new climate, so PERFECT.

While I will drive miles to see any old house at any time, this is one of the few times when I was motivated by more than architectural curiosity. True to my post from a few months ago, I have indeed been reading poetry as a way to wean myself off Salem as it assumes its new role as headquarters of the Warren “Museum” and Bryant was, of course, first and foremost a poet. I can’t really say his poetry drew me to his house though; it was more his prose—and one particular observation in particular. In his Letters to a Traveler, he recounts an 1843 visit he made to his aunt, Charity Bryant in Vermont, where she lived with her long-time partner, Sylvia Drake, in a relationship that everybody, including William, seems to have recognized as a marriage:

“I passed a few days in the valley of one of those streams of northern Vermont, which find their way into Champlain. If I were permitted to draw aside the veil of private life, I would briefly give you the singular, and to me most interesting history of two maiden ladies who dwell in this valley.  I would tell you how, in their youthful days, they took each other as companions for life, and how this union, no less sacred to them than the tie of marriage, has subsisted, in uninterrupted harmony, for forty years, during which they have shared each other’s occupations and pleasures and works of charity while in health, and watched over each other tenderly in sickness; for sickness has made long and frequent visits to their dwelling. I could tell you how they slept on the same pillow and had a common purse, and adopted each other’s relations, and how one of them, more enterprising and spirited in her temper than the other, might be said to represent the male head of the family, and took upon herself their transactions with the world without, until at length her health failed, and she was tended by her gentle companion, as a fond wife attends her invalid husband. I could tell you of their dwelling, encircled with roses, which now in the days of their broken health, bloom wild without their tendance, and I would speak of the friendly attentions which their neighbors, people of kind hearts and simple manners, seem to take pleasure in bestowing upon them, but I have already said more than I fear they will forgive me for, if this should ever meet their eyes, and I must leave the subject.”

These lines are so endearing, so out of their time, at least as I understand the mid-nineteenth century. I found them particularly so as I was reading about a current controversy which has arisen because the first historian of this relationship, Rachel Hope Cleves, is accusing cartoonist Tillie Walden of taking liberties with her research and archival reconstruction in a new graphic novel issued under the very same title, Charity and Sylvia. You can read more about this dispute here if you like; I’m still grappling with it but once I read Bryant’s view of this now storied relationship I preferred to stick with him. And so off to his house I went, where I found another impactful same-sex relationship! But first the house, which was a much smaller and more humble dwelling when Bryant purchased it in 1865. It was his family’s homestead but, but the Bryant farmers had gone west decades before so he was returning to his roots. He raised it up, added a floor and on and on, and created a pastoral summer retreat from his beloved New York City where he spent the last ten summers of his life.

This house has the simplicity of a summer residence, emphasized by all the old wicker and spindle furniture, cotton runners and curtains, and pumpkin painted floors. And it’s not “done”: only the dining room and Bryant’s first-floor study could be called “decorated” and only with family possessions. Everything else looks casually placed—and the bedrooms look like someone just hastily made their bed and stepped out! It’s a hand-me down house with two notable transactions in its history: Bryant’s (re-) purchase in 1865 and his grandaugher Minna Godwin Goddard’s (re-) purchase of the estate from her aunt’s companion in 1917. Bryant died in 1875 and left the property to his two daughters, Frances Bryant Godwin and Julia Sands Bryant. After her sister’s death, Julia was sole owner and left the homestead to her cousin, companion and “chum,” (the word used in Julia’s obituary in the New York Times) Anna R. Fairchild, from whom Minna purchased it, donating it to the Trustees a decade later.

I loved the wallpapers: several looked original, complete with water stains. And that general air of they just stepped away, evident throughout the house but particularly so in the upper rooms. Cool closets! The Trustees guide let us go everywhere, even into the room (and there always is one) with all the chairs lined up (alas, too dark for a photo). I had other places to see in the area, but you could certainly make a day of the Bryant Homestead, as the grounds are lovely and extensive: there are two more dates for house tours, in August and September.

 

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Architecture, Historic Houses, New England

April 21, 2026

Greetings from Annapolis

By daseger

I’m on the first leg of what has become my annual spring southern tour, stopping in at Annapolis for a few days. I love Annapolis, so I visit here every other year or so, but generally during my spring break in March when the historic houses I want to see are not open yet. But this spring I’m on sabbatical, so I shifted my visit later to see the William Paca and Hammond Harwood Houses–and more colorful gardens. This week is Historic Garden Week in Virginia, so I’ll have lots of color in my next post, but today is all about Georgian architecture. Annapolis really had a golden age of architecture in the second half of the eighteenth century, and the Paca and Hammond Harwood Houses are exemplars of this exuberance, as is the Brice House in the same neighborhood, which is currently undergoing a multi-million dollar restoration. William Paca was a Maryland signer of the Declaration of Independence, and later Governor, and his house first fronted an extensive walled garden that later became the site of the Colonial Revival Carvel Hall Hotel. In 1965 Historic Annapolis (a very venerable preservation organization but not as old as Historic Salem) partnered with the State of Maryland to restore the Paca house and recreate its garden, which involved the demolition of the hotel. I imagine this was quite the project, but wow, what a result. I’ve been dying to go into the Paca house for years, and it did not disappoint, except for the dining room, which you won’t see below because it was essentially a pass-through room.

The recreated gardens below, from the house, and out back: the two-storey summer house was recreated based on visual evidence from a portrait. Its perspective shows the Paca house, but the knot garden’s view shows the nearby Brice house.

The dining room at the Hammond Harwood House compensates for that of the Paca house, and then some! It’s right around the corner, and somehow even more stately, certainly more Palladian. But a similar “Annapolis Plan”–the main house in the center, connected to two wings by “hyphens,” a large interior hall with the stairway on the side. The house was built in 1774 for the young and wealthy plantation owner Matthias Hammond who wanted a house in the capital and commissioned architect William Buckland to design it. Hammond never inhabited this grand house, but it survived without many alterations into the twentieth century, when St. John’s College owned and utilized it briefly for the one of the first scholarly programs on American decorative arts. From 1938, the House has been owned and operated by an independent nonprofit association.

Both houses are beautiful and instructive, but I want to spotlight the food history presented at each. Generally this is my least favorite part of a historic house tour: I think large displays of plastic food look silly. But that was not the case at either the Paca or Hammond Harwood Houses. Instead, there were unique and creative displays, and substantive interpretations of the types of food that were prepared and consumed. And of course, these interpretations included discussions of the central roles that enslaved persons played in the households, as well as their diet. I learned a good bit of eighteenth-century “kitchen technology” as well. My guides in both houses referenced the research of food historian Joyce White, so I snapped up one of her books in the Hammond Harwood gift shop and consulted her website as soon as I got back to my hotel: wonderful resources and I particularly love her hedgehogs!

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Historic Houses, Tourism, Travel

March 16, 2026

Camellia Days

By daseger

Nineteenth-century monied New Englanders loved camellias and living embodiments of their desire exist at the Lyman Estate greenhouses of Historic New England, which hosts “Camellia Days” in February and March when these old trees are in bloom. Somehow I miss this event every year, but not this year. I drove to Waltham on Wednesday and had a quick view of the Lyman Estate mansion followed by some alone time with the camellias. The Lyman greenhouses are old (1804), and as close as I can get to Salem’s greenhouse era, when there were at least eight (maybe more—my count is ever-evolving) right in the middle of the city. Camellia Days extends to the mansion, which was designed originally by Samuel McIntire, so there’s a more direct Salem connection there too. I was never really a fan of this rambling structure, but now I realize that is because of its robust Victorian additions rather than its original design. McIntire’s plans reveal a charming two-story house unblemished by those bays. I can certainly understand why Arthur Lyman wanted to expand the house in the 1880s, however: he had a large family who enjoyed this bucolic estate as an escape from busy Boston. And I do love the relocated staircase and vaulted ceiling of the added third storey.

The mansion was built in 1793 and expanded and altered in 1882-83, but the Lyman family retained McIntire’s Federal ballroom (which they used as a library) and oval “bow parlor”. The relocated stairway with its Palladian window oversees the grounds and greenhouses.

I really liked the very Victorian library as well, but my heart stopped when I entered the adjacent china room with cabinets full to brimming with purple transferware! “My” Waterhouse wallpaper adorned one of the bedrooms upstairs so that was nice too. It’s a lovely summer estate with a preserved landscape in the midst of now-busy Waltham.

But I was there for the camellias and they did not disappoint! These are lush, heirloom varieties. I’m partial to less showy plants in the bright light of summer, but in the very dim light of late winter these bright blooms are just what you need. The Lyman greenhouses are accessible all year long actually (and there are great plant sales), but Camellia Days provide extra enticement.

8 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in Culture, Historic Houses, New England