THE KNOX MANSION.
"In the year 1793, General Knox sent a party of workmen from Boston to build a summer residence on the bank of the Georges River. The mansion was much like a French chateau, and was often so called by visitors.
"The front entrance faced the river. The first story was of brick, and contained the servants' hall, etc. The second floor had nine rooms, the principal of which was the oval room, into which the main entrance opened. There were two large windows on either side of the door, and on opposite sides were two immense fire-places. This room was used as a picture gallery, and contained many ancient portraits. It had also a remarkable clock. It was high, and the case was of solid mahogany. The top rose in three points and each point had a brass ball on the top. The face, instead of the usual Roman numbers, had the Arabic 1, 2, 3, etc. There were two small dials. On each side of the case were little windows, showing the machinery. Between the two windows on one side of the room was a magnificent mahogany book-case, elaborately trimmed with solid silver, which had belonged to Louis XIV. and was twelve feet long.
"The mansion measured ninety feet across, and had on either side of the oval room two large drawing-rooms, each thirty feet long. There were twenty-eight fire-places in the house. Back of the western drawing-room was a library. This was furnished with beautiful books of every description, a large number being French. On the other side was a large china closet. One set of china was presented to General Knox by the Cincinnati Society. The ceiling was so high that it was necessary to use a step-ladder to reach the china from the higher shelves. Back of the oval room was a passage with a flight of stairs on each side, which met at the top. Above, the oval room was divided into two dressing-rooms. The bedsteads were all solid mahogany, with silk and damask hangings. One room was called the 'gold room,' and everything in it, even the counterpane, was of gold color. The doors were mahogany, and had large brass knobs and brass pieces extending nearly to the centre. The carpets were all woven whole.
"The house outside was painted white, with green blinds, though every room was furnished with shutters inside. A little in the rear of the mansion extended a number of out-buildings, in the form of a crescent, beginning with the stable on one side, and ending with the cook house on the other. General Knox kept twenty saddle horses and a number of pairs of carriage horses. Once there was a gateway, surmounted by the American Eagle, leading into what is now Knox Street. 'Montpelier,' as it was called, had many distinguished visitors every summer."
I noticed in a recent paper the report of an old-time game supper, participated in by ninety prominent sportsmen at Thomaston, Maine, following the custom inaugurated by General Knox for the entertainment of French guests.
It was through hearing of the Knox house that I learned of a "death room." There was one over the eastern dining-room. These depressing rooms had but one window, and the paper was dark and gloomy—white, with black figures, and a deep mourning frieze. Benches were ranged stiffly around the sides, and there were drawers filled with the necessities for preparing a body for burial. Linen and a bottle of "camphire" were never forgotten. There the dead lay till the funeral. I can shiver over the intense gruesomeness of it. How Poe or Hawthorne could have let his inspired imagination work up the possibilities of such a room! A skeleton at the feast is a slight deterrent from undue gaiety, compared with this ever-ready, sunless apartment.
This reminds me that I read the other day of a "deadly-lively" old lady, who, having taken a flat in the suburban depths of Hammersmith, England, stipulated before signing her lease that the landlord should put black wall-paper on the walls of every room except the kitchen. Possibly she had a secret sorrow which she wished to express in this melodramatic fashion. But why except the culinary department? We have been hearing a good deal lately about the effect of color on the nerves and temperament generally. A grim, undertaker-like tone of this kind would no doubt induce a desired melancholy, and if extended to the region of the kitchen range, might have furthered the general effect by ruining the digestion.
A writer in a recent number of the Decorator's and Painter's Magazine, London, says: "An interview has just taken place with a 'a well-known wall-paper manufacturer,' who, in the course of his remarks, informed the representative of the Morning Comet that black wall-papers were now all the rage. 'You would be surprised,' he said, 'how little these papers really detract from the lightness of a room, the glossiness of their surface compensating almost for the darkness of their shade;' and upon this score there would seem to be no reason why a good pitch paper should not serve as an artistic decorative covering for the walls of a drawing-room or a 'dainty' boudoir.
"It has been generally accepted that highly-glazed surfaces render wall-papers objectionable to the eye, and that they are therefore only fit for hanging in sculleries, bath-rooms and the like, where sanitary reasons outweigh decorative advantages. Very probably the gentleman who recommends black papers for walls would also recommend their use for ceilings, so that all might be en suite, and the effect would undoubtedly be added to, were the paintwork also of a deep, lustrous black, whilst—it may be stretching a point, but there is nothing like being consistent and thorough—the windows might at the same time be 'hung' in harmony with walls and ceilings. Coffin trestles with elm boards would make an excellent table, and what better cabinets for bric-a-brac (miniature skeletons, petrified death's-head moths, model tombstones and railed vaults, and so on) than shelved coffins set on end? Plumes might adorn the mantel-shelf, and weeds and weepers festooned around skulls and crossbones would sufficiently ornament the walls without the aid of pictures, whilst the fragments from some dis-used charnel-house might be deposited in heaps in the corners of the apartment."
The old governors often indulged in expensive and unusual wall-papers. The Governor Gore house at Waltham, Massachusetts, had three, all of which I had photographed. The Gore house, until recently the home of Miss Walker, is one of the most beautiful in Massachusetts, and was an inheritance from her uncle, who came into possession of the property in 1856. Before Miss Walker's death, she suggested that the estate be given to the Episcopal Church in Waltham for a cathedral or a residence for the bishop.
The place is known as the Governor Gore estate, and is named for Christopher Gore, who was governor of Massachusetts in 1799. It covers nearly one hundred and fifty acres of gardens, woodlands and fields. The present mansion was erected in 1802 and replaces the one destroyed by fire.
The mansion is a distinct pattern of the English country house, such as was built by Sir Christopher Wren, the great eighteenth century architect. It is of brick construction. In the interior many of the original features have been retained, such as the remarkable "Bird of Paradise" paper in the drawing-room. All the apartments are very high ceiled, spacious and richly furnished. Some of Governor Gore's old pieces of furniture, silver and china are still in use.
The Badger homestead, in Old Gilmanton, was the home of Colonel William Badger, Governor of New Hampshire in 1834 and 1835, and descended from a long line of soldierly, patriotic and popular men. Fred Myron Colby sketched the home of the Badgers in the Granite Monthly for December, 1882:
"Gov. Badger was a tall, stately man, strong, six feet in height, and at some periods of his life weighed nearly three hundred pounds. He was active and stirring his whole life. Though a man of few words, he was remarkably genial. He had a strong will, but his large good sense prevented him from being obstinate. He was generous and hospitable, a friend to the poor, a kind neighbor, and a high-souled, honorable Christian gentleman. The grand old mansion that he built and lived in has been a goodly residence in its day. Despite its somewhat faded majesty, there is an air of dignity about the ancestral abode that is not without its influence upon the visitor. It is a house that accords well with the style of its former lords; you see that it is worthy of the Badgers. The grounds about its solitary stateliness are like those of the 'old English gentlemen.' The mansion stands well in from the road; an avenue fourteen rods long and excellently shaded leads to the entrance gate. There is an extensive lawn in front of the house, and a row of ancient elms rise to guard, as it were, the tall building with its hospitable portal in the middle, its large windows, and old, moss-covered roof. The house faces the southwest, is two and a half stories high, and forty-four by thirty-six feet on the ground.
"As the door swings open we enter the hall, which is ten by sixteen feet. On the left is the governor's sitting-room, which occupied the southeast corner of the house, showing that Gov. Badger did not, like Hamlet, dread to be too much 'i' the sun.' It is not a large room, only twenty by sixteen feet, yet it looks stately. In this room the governor passed many hours reading and entertaining his guests. In it is the antique rocking-chair that was used by the governor on all occasions. A large fire-place, with brass andirons and fender, is on one side, big enough to take in half a cord of wood at a time. Near by it stood a frame on which were heaped sticks of wood, awaiting, I suppose, the first chilly evening. It must be a splendid sight to see those logs blazing, and the firelight dancing on the old pictures and the mirror and the weapons on the walls.
"The most noticeable thing in the room is the paper upon the walls. It was bought by the governor purposely for this room, and cost one hundred dollars in gold. It is very thick, almost like strawboard, and is fancifully illustrated with all sorts of pictures—landscapes, marine views, court scenes, and other pageants. It will afford one infinite amusement to study the various figures. On one side is a nautical scene. An old-fashioned galleon, such a one as Kidd the pirate would have liked to run afoul of, is being unloaded by a group of negroes. Swarthy mariners, clad in the Spanish costume of the seventeenth century,—long, sausage-shaped hose, with breeches pinned up like pudding bags and fringed at the bottom, boots with wide, voluminous tops, buff coats with sleeves slashed in front, and broad-brimmed Flemish beaver hats, with rich hat-bands and plumes of feathers—are watching the unlading, and an old Turk stands near by, complaisant and serene, smoking his pipe. On the opposite wall there is a grand old castle, with towers and spires and battlements. In the foreground is a fountain, and a group of gallants and ladies are promenading the lawn. One lady, lovely and coquettish, leans on the arm of a cavalier, and is seemingly engrossed by his conversation, and yet she slyly holds forth behind her a folded letter in her fair white hand which is being eagerly grasped by another gallant—like a scene from the Decameron. In the corner a comely maiden in a trim bodice, succinct petticoat and plaided hose, stands below a tall tree, and a young lad among the branches is letting fall a nest of young birds into her extended apron. The expression on the boy's face in the tree and the spirited protest of the mother bird are very graphically portrayed.
"The loveliest scene of all is that of a bay sweeping far into the land; boats and ships are upon the tide; on the shore, rising from the very water's edge, is a fairy-like, palatial structure, with machicolated battlements, that reminds one of the enchanted castle of Armida. Under the castle walls is assembled a gay company. A cavalier, after the Vandyke style, is playing with might and main upon a guitar, and a graceful, full-bosomed, lithe-limbed Dulcinea is dancing to the music in company with a gaily dressed gallant. It is the Spanish fandango. Another scene is a charming land and water view with no prominent figures in it.
"Upon the mantel are several curiosities, notably a fragment of the rock on which Rev. Samuel Hidden was ordained at Tamworth, September 12, 1792, several silhouettes of the various members of the Badger family, and the silver candlesticks, tray and snuffers used by Mrs. Governor Badger. Suspended above, upon the wall, are a pair of horse pistols, a dress sword and a pair of spurs. These were the Governor's, which were used by him in the war of 1812, and also when he was sheriff of the county. The sword has quite a romantic history. It was formerly General Joseph Badger's, who obtained it in the following manner: When a lieutenant in the army, near Crown Point and Lake Champlain, just after the retreat from Canada, in 1777, Badger undertook, at the desire of General Gates, to obtain a British prisoner. With three picked men he started for the British camp at St. John's. Arriving in the neighborhood, he found a large number of the officers enjoying themselves at a ball given by the villagers. One of the Britons, in full ball dress, they were fortunate enough to secure, and took him to their boat. Badger then changed clothes with the officer, returned to the ball, danced with the ladies, hobnobbed with the officers, and gained much valuable information as to the movements of the British army. Before morning light he returned in safety with his prisoner to Crown Point, where he received the commendations of the commanding general for his bravery. The officer's sword he always kept, and is the same weapon that now hangs on the wall."
Mrs. Joseph Badger, whose husband was the oldest son of Governor William Badger (both, alas! now dead), wrote most kindly to me about the wall-paper, and sent me a picture of it. And she said: "The homestead was built in 1825 by Ex-Gov. William Badger, and the paper you inquire about was hung that year. He was at Portsmouth, N. H., attending court, and seeing this paper in a store, liked it very much, and ordered enough to paper the sitting-room, costing fifty dollars. He did not have enough money with him to pay for it, but they allowed him to take it home, and he sent the money back by the stage driver, who laid it down on the seat where he drove, and the wind blew it away, never to be found, so he had to pay fifty dollars more; at least, so says tradition. The paper is quite a dark brown, and is in a good state of preservation and looks as though it might last one hundred years longer."
In a valuable book, entitled Some Colonial Mansions and Those Who Lived in Them, edited by Thomas Allen Glennand, and published in 1898, is a picture of the wall-paper at the Manor House, on page 157 of Volume I, in the chapter which relates to the Patroonship of the Van Rensselaers and the magnificent mansion. This was built in 1765, commenced and finished (except the modern wings) by Stephen Van Rensselaer, whose wife was the daughter of Philip Livingston, a signer of the Declaration of Independence.
"Seldom has a house a more splendid history, or romantic origin, than this relic of feudal splendor and colonial hospitality. The house is approached from the lodge-gate through an avenue shaded by rows of ancient trees. The entrance hall is thirty-three feet wide, and is decorated with the identical paper brought from Holland at the time the house was built, having the appearance of old fresco-painting."
The picture which follows this description is too small to be satisfactorily studied without a magnifying glass, but the paper must be impressive as a whole. Imposing pillars on the left, perhaps all that remains of a grand castle; in front of them large blocks of stone with sculptured men and horses; at the right of these a pensive, elegant creature of the sterner sex gazing at a mammoth lion couchant on a square pedestal. Beyond the lion, a picturesque pagoda on a high rock, and five more human figures, evidently put in to add to the interest of the foreground. This square is surrounded with a pretty wreath, bedecked with flowers, birds and shells.
On either side of the hall were apartments some thirty feet wide; the great drawing-rooms, the state bed-room and the spacious library, in which the bookcases of highly polished wood occupied at least seventy feet of wall-space. All of the ceilings are lofty, and fine old wood carvings abounded on every side. Mr. William Bayard Van Rensselaer of Albany still possesses the handsome paper taken from one of these rooms, with four large scenes representing the seasons. The house was demolished only a few years ago.
I notice that almost all these mansions had walls of wood, either plain or paneled in broad or narrow panels, and simply painted with oil-paint of pure white or a cream yellow; and a Southern gentleman, whose ancestors lived in one of these historic homes, tells me that the Southern matrons were great housekeepers, and these white wood walls were thoroughly scrubbed at least three times yearly, from top to bottom.
In Part II of the history of the Carters of Virginia, we read that the duties of Robert Carter as councillor brought him to Williamsburg for a part of the year, and in 1761 he moved, with his family, from "Nomini Hall" to the little Virginia capital, where he lived for eleven years. We know, from the invoices sent to London, how the Councillor's home in the city was furnished. The first parlor was bright with crimson-colored paper; the second had hangings ornamented by large green leaves on a white ground; and the third, the best parlor, was decorated with a finer grade of paper, the ground blue, with large yellow flowers. A mirror was to be four feet by six and a half, "the glass to be in many pieces, agreeable to the present fashion," and there were marble hearth-slabs, wrought-brass sconces and glass globes for candles, Wilton carpets and other luxuries. The mantels and wainscoting were especially fine.
The paper on the hall of Martin Van Buren's home at Kinderhook, New York, is said to have been interesting; but the present owners have destroyed it, being much annoyed by sightseers.
In the reception room of the Manor House of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, Maryland, and in the state chamber, where Washington slept (a frequent and welcome guest at Doughoregan Manor) were papers, both with small floral patterns.
In New York and Albany paper-hanging was an important business by 1750 and the walls of the better houses were papered before the middle of the century. But in the average house the walls were not papered in 1748. A Swedish visitor says of the New York houses at that time, "The walls were whitewashed within, and I did not anywhere see hangings, with which the people in this country seem in general to be little acquainted. The walls were quite covered with all sorts of drawings and pictures in small frames."
