LIMOVADY
First the electric car and now the automobile have solved the problem of
accessibility which until recently confronted those who would have
returned to the old homestead even sooner, had it been nearer the town.
But to-day the house must be far away indeed if it cannot be easily
reached from the more active centers, and probably this fact more than
any other has opened up for the enjoyment of the younger generations the
natural charm of the countryside endeared to our forefathers. In the
roomy, old-fashioned farmhouses of New England, surrounded by stately
trees and overlooking acres upon acres of rolling pasture and meadow
land, unlimited opportunities are offered for the development of the
country home.
In remodeling these houses of the early builders, any radical departure
from the original scheme is seldom necessary. Rather should the lines
and motives be sacredly preserved to accentuate their old-time charm,
and modern improvements introduced unobtrusively and with such care that
the final result is indeed a restoration and not an alteration. The
mellowing passage of time has dealt gently with many of our old homes,
and history and romance have woven about them an added fascination for
every generation to enjoy. When the work of restoration is commenced,
the problem of retaining this charm is often a difficult one. In some
instances it would seem as if nothing short of pure inspiration had
guided the hands of the remodelers of many of the quaint and irregular
old houses that stand by the side of the road.
The old house is nearly always in harmony with its surroundings; if it
did not seem a part of the landscape when it was built, it has at least
had time to grow into it through the years, and the problem of all
remodeling is to preserve in the completed structure the atmosphere that
will make it appear to have always belonged where it stands. While the
first thought of our forefathers was to provide an adequate home, they
undoubtedly possessed a peculiar instinct in the choice of a picturesque
location. By selecting the site best adapted to their needs, the house
seemed literally to grow out of the land, and herein lies the secret of
more than half the allurement of the old-fashioned structures. The
intimacy between house and grounds seems as strong as were the family
ties of those hardy pioneers who laid the foundations of American
civilization.
More practical considerations in regard to the environment than
picturesqueness confront the house owner, however, and one of the most
important is that of water supply and drainage. These must necessarily
be kept far apart. A gentle incline is the best location for a dwelling,
so that the one may come to the house from higher ground above, and the
other be carried off below. A hollow is bad, because the water will not
readily flow away from it; it is always damp and hot, as it is shut in
from the breezes. On too steep a hillside, heavy rains will work havoc
with lawns, walks, and flower beds.
The slope of the land should be considered in reference to the
prevailing winds. The house should be placed so that the cool breezes of
summer blow upon the living-room side and not upon the kitchen, or all
the heat and odors from cooking will fill the rooms, and they will
always be hot and stuffy. The attractiveness of the immediate outlook
should be noted, and it is well to ascertain if there are any
objectionable features which cannot be removed or which are likely to
arise within immediate prospect. The character and proximity of the
neighbors will play a large part in the enjoyment of a summer home. If
the house is not set well back on the property, it should at least be
screened with full-grown trees and shrubbery to obtain the seclusion
desired. Old trees add greatly not only to the attractiveness of a place
but to its actual value and comfort, for it takes a long time to grow
new trees that will provide adequate shade from the heat of summer suns.
There is an illustration of a thus happily situated farmhouse at
Georgetown, about thirty miles from Boston, known as the Jewett house,
which was built in 1711. It is typical of an old Dutch lean-to and has a
great central chimney twelve feet square, with four flues. Snuggled down
in the midst of rolling grass land, it made an attractive picture in its
surroundings of old elms. It stood far back from the road and was
approached by a long lane that wound among splendid trees to the front
of the house. Like many dwellings of this period, its back was toward
the main road, and the front door opened upon a wide expanse of shady
meadows which in the summer were bright with many-colored wild
flowers. Between the house and the road there was a wide stretch of
green grass which has been transformed into an old-fashioned flower
garden, planted about a small, cement-lined pool and water garden.
[Illustration: Rear View from the Garden]
This house was discovered several years ago by a young Southerner who
had come north from her sunny home in Kentucky to find a summer abode
for her brother and herself. The house as it stood was in a very
dilapidated condition, and only an artist would have realized its
possibilities. But about it was a warmth of atmosphere that appealed to
the enthusiastic Southerner. Not the least of its attractions were the
elms that cast their protecting shadows not only over the long avenue
which led to the house but over the dwelling itself; many of them were
patriarchs of the primeval forests when their younger companions were
yet in seed; others were set out later, to add their charm to the
forsaken home.
[Illustration: LIMOVADY--SIDE VIEW]
It was purchased in 1906, and the work of restoration was immediately
commenced. The outside was weather-beaten and guiltless of paint. The
roof sagged, and the great stone chimney needed repair. It was propped
up and made thoroughly safe, and the old roof was entirely-rebuilt, but
the original lines were closely followed. Viewing the house as it stands
to-day, one realizes what attractive apartments can be evolved from ugly
interiors, and what interesting results ingenuity and good judgment can
bring about.
The interior showed coat after coat of vivid tint and layer after layer
of atrociously colored wall-paper. The rooms, originally large and
square, had been divided and partitioned off to meet the needs of
growing families; many of them were small and hopelessly unattractive.
But there were latent possibilities.
When the house was first purchased, the owner went over the inside
herself to discover the original lines. As in many houses of the kind,
it was easy to restore the size of the room by following beams and
knocking out partitions. It must be remembered that the usual plan in
houses of that period was to construct a large, square room in the
center with small rooms opening off from it which were used as chambers.
The work of decorating, and, as far as possible, the remodeling itself,
was done by Mrs. William Otis Kimball and her brother. Along the front
of the house a screened, outdoor living-room has been added. The
original building consisted of four rooms on the first floor. The front
door opened into a small hall, to the right of which was the great
living-room, and to the left the dining-room. Back of the former was a
guest room, and back of the latter the old kitchen.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Two Views of the Living Room]
In the living-room, the flooring, which was composed of boards often two
feet wide, was in such good condition that it was left intact, treated
to a black walnut stain, and shellacked. The height of the ceiling was
but seven feet; so the heavy beams of swamp oak were boxed in and
painted white, and the space between whitewashed. The walls, which were
covered with ten tiers of paper, each one uglier than the last, were
cleared to the boarding. The last one was found to be a wonderfully fine
landscape paper, which showed that an early owner of the house must have
been a person of means, who probably had it brought over in one of the
merchant-ships during the time of commercial prosperity, when
Newburyport had a lively trade with foreign lands. The walls were
treated with a water paint colored a creamy pumpkin tint that makes the
room seem always well lighted. It is a most inexpensive finish, such as
is used by scene painters in a theater, and can be put on with an
ordinary-whitewash brush. The wainscot was stained dark brown to
harmonize with the floors. Around the top of the room the owner painted
a frieze of conventionalized pomegranates, which follow the color scheme
of the woodwork and wall. The old fireplace, which had been closed up,
was opened, and the over-mantel enriched with a splendidly decorative
painting by the artist herself, representing a Normandy boar hunt about
1330.
After it was remodeled, the room measured twenty-four by twenty-six
feet, the original size when the house was first built. It is now used
as a living-room and library. Inexpensive shelves, made of boards
stained to match the wainscot, are fastened along the walls. In places
there is a single shelf; sometimes two are placed about twelve inches
apart, and they are used for books, pictures, and ornaments. The windows
are curtained with an appropriate simplicity that is unusually
attractive. Unbleached cotton is used for the over-curtains and
decorated with a border of richly colored cretonne, corresponding in
color and conventionality of design to the painted frieze on the
walls.
The hallway is five feet in width and has been kept in the original
boards. They are stained in tones of soft brown which harmonize
splendidly with the varying color schemes of the rooms that open on
either side. Opposite the entrance door is a narrow, winding staircase
whose white steps and balustrade contrast sharply with the dark woodwork
and hand-rail. Half way up is the old nightcap closet from which, in the
early days, our forefathers took their nightly toddy. Underneath the
stairs is a secret closet so carefully hidden in the panels that only
those familiar with it can find it. This was known in Colonial days as
the "priest hole," and it was here, so the legend runs, that French
refugees were secreted during the French and Indian wars.
[Illustration: The Dining Room]
The dining-room opens off the hallway at the left. It is a long, narrow
room with a fireplace at one side of the end nearest the hall. The
woodwork has been finished in a dark stain, and the old corner cupboard
has been kept intact. The fireplace wall is paneled in swamp pine, and
over the mantel there is a secret panel cupboard. The lower part of the
walls is covered with dark green burlap, and above is a decorative paper
in boldly striking colors. There is a long, refectory dining-table in
this room, made of stout oak boards, and the other furniture has a
monastic simplicity which is entirely in keeping with the character of
the room.
The small room at the rear of the living-room is used as a guest chamber
and is known as the missionary room. Here the walls are tinted a soft
moss green, and ornamented at the top by a black and white frieze that
pictures the different stages of a missionary's life. He is shown from
the time of his arrival on the lonely island to his chase and capture by
a band of cannibals, and finally being roasted amidst scenes of hilarity
as they turn his fat form on the spit.
The studio was originally the kitchen and opens out of this room. The
woodwork is of the same dark brown tint used through all the lower
story, and the walls are hung with natural colored burlap. The principal
features of the room are its fireplace and quaint Dutch oven which were
built into the center of the twelve-foot chimney when the house was
erected. From the pothook on the crane hangs an old Colonial kettle. Of
almost equal interest are the small-paned windows which are closed by
sliding inside panels.
The present kitchen has been added at the rear. It has white walls
decorated with a frieze in which lobsters disport themselves in
different attitudes.
A small closet at one side of the passage that leads into the kitchen
has been utilized for a bathroom. It is finished in white with a dado of
tiles painted with turtles.
[Illustration: The Lounge]
When the house was first purchased, there was an old barn on the
property a short distance away. This was moved up and connected with the
house. It opens from the dining-room and has been converted into a
lounge room, with servants' quarters at the rear. This room is one of
the most interesting in the house. It is finished in stained pine, and
the old rafters and woodwork have been left as they originally were. The
spaces between the heavy beams of the ceiling are white, the beams being
black with a narrow band of peacock blue above.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Two of the Chambers]
The originality used in finishing the house is evidenced nowhere better
than in the chambers, on the second floor. Each one has been decorated
with a different flower, and they are known as the holly-hock, the sweet
pea, the wistaria, and the morning-glory room. A frieze of the
particular flower has been painted around, and the canopies and bed
coverings show the same design and colors in cretonne.
A small room in the barn wing, which was not large enough to be
converted into a chamber as it stood, has been utilized for this purpose
by opening up a large, connecting closet into an alcove to hold the bed.
It is so arranged that at night the bed can be pulled out into the
center of the room, and in the daytime hidden behind curtains drawn
across the alcove.
There are quaint old four-posters in all of the bedrooms, and
old-fashioned and simple furniture is used throughout the house. Some of
it is home-made, and in many of the rooms are bookcases constructed from
packing-boxes, and hung across with curtains of the cretonne used
elsewhere in the room.
In altering many old houses for modern occupancy, there has been a
greater expenditure than would have been required to build an entirely
new structure. But in this instance the charm of the old home has been
retained with a considerably smaller outlay than would have been
necessary to erect another of equal size and facilities.
There is an undeniable satisfaction in realizing that all has been
gotten out of a venture of this kind that was possible, and that no
offense has been committed against the spirit of the old house. Every
one who has attempted remodeling obtains different results from those
first planned, for as the work proceeds, new possibilities and new
limitations constantly appear, till the completed building has an
individuality unrealized in the beginning.
In Limovady, as this little country place is named, we find a good
example of what can be done to make an old house not only a livable but
a delightful home, and it is a success such as this that inspires other
home seekers to remodel, according to their own ideas. For no two people
will be likely to conceive the reconstruction of a home in just the same
way, and it is this stamp of individuality that lends to the remodeled
house a large part of its charm.