Page 45 – Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library

Winterthur Trails This Week – Armor Farm & Chandler Woods

Added this quick video of the hike…

This week I chose another trail that takes you in and out of shaded woodland, with an opportunity to see one of our most striking meadows and an absolutely huge tulip poplar. Once again, I linked two trails – Armor Farm and Chandler Woods – to create a large, irregular figure-8 loop that is 2.6 miles long. I have outlined my walk below and provided a photo gallery (by the way, if you would like a PDF version of our hiking map follow this link www.winterthur.org/map). For those tech-savvy walkers I am providing a link to an AllTrails map below that allows you to follow the route with your smartphone. Happy hiking! [ngg src=”galleries” ids=”126″ display=”basic_imagebrowser”]

Garlic Mustard—Springtime’s Worst Offender

When managing the natural lands, I’ve found it’s almost like a strategy game. Which areas need the most attention right now? Which will need attention in two weeks? In three months? Right now, in spring, I always have a few things on my plate. After mowing the meadows, I usually turn my attention to the woodlands. With our beautiful native spring ephemerals blooming in the woods, it’s a good time to figure out what doesn’t belong. Without fail, one of my least favorite invasives always rears its head: Garlic Mustard! Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata) is a broadleaf biennial in the mustard family native to Europe and Asia, which has happily made a home here in woodlands, road edges, and shaded floodplains. It’s easily identifiable from the garlicky smell of the plant, round, slightly toothed leaves, and white, four-petaled (cruciform) flowers that shoot up from the basal rosette in April–May. While the basal rosette of leaves is present year round, the flower shoot is specific to second year plants, and is present April–June. The plant can reach up to three feet tall, and the seed pods are slender capsules typical of the mustard family called siliques.

Garlic Mustard with native Virginia Bluebells

Visible- round, toothed leaves and cruciform, white flowers

So, why do I have so much dislike for this plant? Well, it all comes down to ecology. Garlic Mustard has a mechanism called allelopathy. Basically, this means that the plant emits a chemical from its roots that disturbs the natural soil chemistry. This prevents native plants from growing, native seeds from germinating, and encourages more growth of Garlic Mustard. Slowly, it can decrease the natural diversity of native plants in a wooded ecosystem. When a monoculture of Garlic Mustard occurs, it can lead to poor soil nutrient cycling and soil health decline, as well as a decline in the diversity of animals and insects that rely on native plants to survive. Fortunately, this nasty plant is most effectively controlled by hand pulling! For me, this time of year before the plant goes to seed is the ideal time to pull this plant aggressively. I like to pull the plant from the base as close to the soil as I can get, and gently pull it out of the ground. Especially after a rain, it comes right out- roots and all! A little shake to knock off excess soil, and it’s into the weeding bucket. Be sure to go at a nice steady pace. Too fast, and you may inadvertently break the plant at the root since the main tap root usually juts sharply to one side. This can lead to re-sprouting later in the season.

At this point in the development of the plant, I can usually compost it without issue. If composting isn’t an option, and I have to leave the plants behind, I’ll take my bunch of pulled plants and prop it up against a tree with the roots in the air so that the plants dry out and die without re-rooting.

If the plant has any seed capsule development at all, I will bag the plant and throw it away. These seed capsules can still mature and spread seed- even after it’s been pulled! Because the seeds can persist in the soil for a long time, this is a process I’ve had to repeat in various woodlands throughout the property for a few years. But every year, I notice the decline in the Garlic Mustard population! It’s the long game with Garlic Mustard, but one worth the effort. If you’d like to know more about this invasive plant, or other invasive species in Delaware, you can go to the Delaware Invasive Species Council website!

Silhouette Sleuthing: The Mystery of the Weston Profile Artist

Group silhouette, Weston Profiles, New York, ca. 1840-50. Bequest of Mrs. Helen Shumway Mayer 2003.13.35.

What started as simple research into a silhouette in the Winterthur collection progressed to a three-month trek through directories, census records, newspaper advertisements, maps, artist encyclopedias, archives, and auction catalogs. The silhouette in question, a group portrait against an interior in watercolor, has proved to be fascinating, and research has discounted previous scholarship as a new story emerges.
Silhouettes were popular and cheap forms of portraiture throughout the 18th century and into the 19th century. During the period, they were referred to as “shades” or “profile miniatures,” though by the early 19th century they are just described as “profiles.” (1) There are various ways to produce these profiles, though the most talented artists could cut freehand, such as the most prolific 19th-century silhouettist Auguste Édouart.(2) Originally from France, Édouart traveled extensively through Great Britain and America creating some 100,000 silhouettes, keeping a copy or record of each one he produced. Winterthur has some examples of Édouart’s work.
Other silhouettists could sketch from life or use a mechanical device like a physiognotrace to capture the profile.
While many silhouettes feature one figure, this piece contains seven cut silhouettes painted black with white and tinted highlights to delineate details on the clothing and accessories. Underneath these figures the viewer can read the names of the Dennison and Barcley family and a “Miss Lucy Dale.” In the bottom right corner, the silhouette is signed “Weston pinxt./ 149 ½ Bowery.” On the reverse of the frame, an affixed label also gives the address 149 ½ Bowery. Winterthur’s records cited Mary Bartlett Pillsbury Weston as the artist, though a letter in the records from 1957 indicated that no Weston had been found in the New York City Directory at the Bowery location in the 1840s. From here, the questions grew.

Conducting genealogical research on Mary Pillsbury Weston, I discovered a captivating tale of a woman determined to be an artist. Born in Hebron, New Hampshire, in 1817, she was the daughter of Baptist minister Stephen Pillsbury and Lavinia Hobart. Texts from the 19th century recount Mary Weston’s romantic tale: a deep yearning as a child to paint and how she ran away two times in an attempt to become an artist, finally moving to Willington, Connecticut, in 1837, painting portraits of local families. While in Connecticut, she met New Yorker Valentine Weston, brother to Willington citizen Jonathan Weston. Valentine invited Mary to come to New York, where he would employ artists to continue to instruct her and help her become an artist. After three months of living in New York, Mary married Valentine in 1840.(3) Mary Weston lived in New York until after her husband’s death in 1863.
Regardless of any tentative ties to Édouart, texts from the 19th century only claim that Mary was a portrait and landscape artist. There is no evidence that she ever made silhouettes and that is supported by archival research. The Kenneth Spencer Research Library at the University of Kansas holds the Pillsbury Family Papers, which contain Mary Weston’s outgoing letters from 1840 to 1867. While Mary wrote about painting and selling her work, she never mentions a silhouette business.
For most researchers, labels on objects are considered a gift. Other times, they only make the piece more confusing, as in the case of the Weston profile. Valentine Weston, 32 years Mary’s senior, appears in the New York City Directory as a blind maker, frame maker, and looking glass maker as early as 1822 and into the 1840s. His son from a previous marriage, John L. Weston, also owned a frame-making business in that same period continuing into the 1850s. Frame makers frequently sold prints and drawing in their store, thus it would not have been a leap to assume that Mary had a deal with her husband and son-in-law to create framed silhouettes for clients. However, at no point are these two men ever listed at 149 ½ Bowery, and their businesses stayed within the lower west side.
At this point, it seems unlikely that Mary Bartlett Pillsbury Weston ever made and sold silhouettes. Who was the Weston who created this silhouette? Who are the sitters? How do we know that this is even from the 1840s? These questions will continue to be pursued in part two, which will be posted on next week!
You can see this silhouette and others from the Winterthur Library and museum collection in the special loan exhibition In Fine Form: The Striking Silhouette at the Delaware Antiques Show, November 9–11, 2018.

Post by Amanda Hinckle, Robert and Elizabeth Owens Curatorial Fellow, Museum Collections Department, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library
Winterthur is very grateful for funding from the National Endowment for the Arts, which has given us the ability to photograph and digitize works on paper in the collection, including these silhouettes.
(1) Emma Rutherford, Silhouette: The Art of the Shadow (New York: Rizzoli, 2009), 21.
(2) Rutherford, Silhouette, 29.
(3) E.F. Ellet, Women Artists in All Ages and Countries (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1859); H. W. French, Art and Artists in Connecticut (Boston: Lee and Shepard, Publishers; New York: Charles T. Dillingham, 1879); and Augusta Harvey Worthen, The History of Sutton, New Hampshire: Consisting of the Historical Collections of Erastus Wadleigh, Esq., and A. H. Worthen (Concord, NH: The Republican Press Association, 1890).

Looks Good Enough to Eat!

As well as studying early cookbooks, prints, and paintings, those of us who love the history of food can learn about past delicacies by studying the shapes of dishes and their ornament. In the Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens, such references abound! Tastes regarding how prepared foods should look when they arrived at the table have changed over time. Today, for example, diners in America or Europe might not expect a cooked goose to arrive at the table complete with its head! However, based on the tureen shown above and cookbook instructions from the 1600s onward, such a display was common on many past dinner tables. The goose tureen, originally used to serve soup or other liquid foods, additionally mimics the leafy garnishes that sometimes adorned cooked birds at the table. The surf-and-turf motifs ornamenting the elegant silver tureen, below, suggest that a variety of foods may have been served from the dish. Two boars’ heads flank either side of the tureen body; a realistic-looking lobster or crayfish on the lid forms a handle, and the dish is supported on “dolphin” feet.

Silver tureen by John Edwards II, London, England, 1746-47. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.4.237a,b

Other references to the abundance available from the sea are obvious in the Portuguese bucket-of-fish tureen, shown below. Paintings and prints from the 1600s onward show coopered wooden buckets, resembling the type forming the lower portion of the tureen as containers for different kinds of foods, including fresh fish.

Earthenware fish (cod?) tureen by the Rato factory, Portugal, 1767–71. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.4.247

Hunting, of course, was another excellent source of protein and was celebrated in the shapes of and ornament on dishes. The magnificently detailed tureen and stand, shown below, not only is garnished with oak leaves from the forest but also includes the instruments of the animal’s demise. The fletching (feathers) of arrows is visible beneath one edge of the dish. Although this vessel probably was intended for soup or stew, real boar’s heads often had the skull removed; the cavity was then stuffed with one of a broad range of fillings.

Porcelain boar’s head tureen and stand, Chelsea Porcelain Manufactory, London, England, 1750–60. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.4.1a,b, gift of John T. Dorrance, Jr

Throughout history vegetables and fruit have formed an important part of the dining experience. Some wealthy consumers raised their own produce or bought imported or hot-house-grown vegetables or fruits, such as oranges, lemons, limes, mangoes, or figs. Private orchards and vineyards—such as at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello in Virginia—also experimented with new types of fruits and vegetables. Most urban shoppers, however, bought produce from street-sellers, local shops, or market gardeners, some of whom grew their stock in enclosed plots or greenhouses within the city limits. Tureens in the form of melons featured leaf-shaped stands, and some perhaps celebrated the increased availability of a broader range of fruits. Such vessels were used during any course of a dinner, whether for serving sweet or savory foods. The large white melon tureen shown here most likely served soup at the first course of a dinner.

Stoneware melon tureen and stand, Staffordshire, England, about 1760. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.4.226a-c

Foods such as rhubarb were introduced to Europe from Asia, along with valuable silks and spices. Although the leaves of the plant are poisonous, the tart stalk has long been valued as a food. In the kitchen, rhubarb—though actually a vegetable—is commonly sweetened and prepared as if it were a fruit.

Earthenware dinner plate with rhubarb, Wedgwood Etruria factory, Staffordshire, England, 1870–72. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.4.278

The cultivation of leafy vegetables such as cabbage and lettuce dates back thousands of years, although some (such as the cos lettuce, which appeared during the 1600s) are more recent innovations. Such food was easy to grow and eventually was affordable by all levels of society.

Porcelain sauceboat in a cabbage leaf pattern, Longton Hall factory, Staffordshire, England, about 1755. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Mayer 1982.160

Porcelain sauce tureen in the shape of cos (Romaine) lettuce, Chelsea Porcelain Manufactory, London, England, 1752–58. Bequest of Mrs. Helen Shumway Mayer 2003.13.109a,b

Ultimately, though, all of these wonderful dish designs were just the tip of the iceberg…lettuce. (Sorry, couldn’t help it!) Come and see for yourself in the Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur. Post by Leslie B. Grigsby, senior curator of ceramics and glass, Winterthur

Silhouette Sleuthing: Solving the Mystery of the Weston Profile Artist (Part 2)

In the first Silhouette Sleuthing blog post, I detailed how I discovered that one of the silhouettes in the Winterthur collection had been misattributed to artist Mary Pillsbury Weston, who was most famous for her Spirit of Kansas painting exhibited at the Columbian Exhibition. There is no evidence to suggest that she ever produced and sold silhouettes. If the Weston profiles were not created by Mary, then who created them? I started to look through auction catalogs for other Weston silhouettes, hoping to understand the artist’s style. I found other pieces attributed to Weston, many of which are signed and contain the “Weston Profiles” label on the rear of the frame. Two types of signatures appear. The first, similar to the silhouette in the Winterthur collection, is a handwritten, cursive script with “Weston pinxt./149 ½ Bowery.” It can be found on a full-length silhouette of a woman, which was sold at auction by Northeast Auctions in 2015. (1) Other examples have a block-lettered serif signature “Weston of NY,” sometimes including the date. The two signatures could indicate that different individuals created these silhouettes under the name “Weston Profiles.”

Detail of Weston signature on the silhouette in the Winterthur collection.

Since most of the silhouettes have a “Weston Profiles/149 ½ Bowery” label attached to the back of the frame, it indicates that they have a common source. However, this does not solve the mystery of the address, since no Westons have been found at 149 ½ Bowery, as discussed in the previous blog post. Could these silhouettes be fake? Winterthur Paper Conservator Joan Irving examined the Weston profile in the frame, and there were no red flags to suggest it was not produced in the 19th century. However, she did note that the label appeared to have been cut down at some point. This does not mean that the silhouette is fake, it is possible the piece was reframed at some point and the label reaffixed to the new frame.

If we accept the material evidence that these silhouettes were made in the 1840s, and there are no known Westons living on Bowery at this time, who or what was at 149 ½ Bowery? The only reference to a 149 ½ Bowery found in primary sources is J. Wilson Fancy Goods Store listed in the New York Mercantile Union Business Directory in 1850. This reference seemed promising since a silhouettist could have operated out of a fancy goods store. J. Wilson, however, could not be traced to that location prior to 1850 in Trow’s New York City Directory. Looking at what businesses worked out of 149 Bowery during the 1840s, I found a distillery, leather working, and saddlery at this location. The leather business is possibly the closest connection, since cases for miniatures, silhouettes, and daguerreotypes typically utilized leather, and I found a group of Westons who operated a daguerreotype business in the city. This group of Westons can be found in the New York City directories during the period of production, and they include a John P. Weston, a Robert Weston, and another Mary A. Weston—all of whom were daguerreotypists. This was a promising avenue because the career jump from silhouettist to daguerreotypist would not have been surprising in the period. Silhouettes were a cheap, quick, and easy way to produce form of portraiture, some even employing the physiognotrace or pantograph machines, which are considered forerunners to photography. (2) Boundaries between what we understand as “fine artist” and “daguerreotypist” were fluid with some artists producing both artwork and daguerreotypes at the same time, and others using the technology to help with their artwork. Photography eclipsed silhouettes in the mid-19th century as a more accurate and equally easy method to produce mode of portraiture. According to the directories, James P. Weston operated in New York City as a daguerreotypist from 1842 to 1857. In 1842, James partnered with artist William Hendrik Franquinet to create a series of daguerreotype views of the city of New York and continued to work as a daguerreotypist throughout the 1840s and into the 50s. (3) Unfortunately, James P. Weston disappears from the records after 1857. The husband and wife pair, Robert and Mary A. Weston, were also in the daguerreotype business. The 1850 Federal census lists English-born Robert Weston as an artist, while the 1855 New York Census reports that he worked with daguerreotypes. (4) Mary’s profession is never listed in either census. Possibly blood relatives, Robert Weston and James P. Weston were listed together at 132 Chatham and 192 Broadway as daguerreians through the 1840s and 1850s. Mary Ann Weston was the daughter of British immigrant Thomas Kearsing (1774–1856), a pianoforte maker of the well-known Kearsing piano makers from the 1830s. She was born around 1812 in New York City, and she married Robert in 1839. She only appears in the directories between 1858 and 1861, where the couple were listed separately at 142 ½ Bowery. After Robert’s death in 1863, Mary continued to operate as a photographer at 392 Bowery until 1866, as seen in the U.S. IRS Tax Lists. (5) By 1866, Mary looked to move to California, posting in the New York Daily Herald: A PHOTOGRAPH GALLERY, ESTABLISHED IN THIS city in 1839, and in a flourishing state of business, to be sold as the owner must leave for California to settle some family affairs. Apply at WESTON’S Photograph Gallery, 392 Bowery, near Cooper Institute.[v] She eventually moved to California in 1874 to be with her siblings, where she died three years later. The Westons operated close to the 149 ½ address. Their closest relation to this address lies with a leather factory. In 1845, James P. Weston used the address 43 Eldridge for his daguerreotype submission to the American Institute and the Mechanics’ Institute Art Fair, an address he shared with Walter S. Abbott of Abbott & Smith Saddlery. Between 1842 and 1843, Abbott & Smith Saddlery is located at 149 Bowery. Did the two men know each other? Could Weston have operated a studio out of Abbott’s shop? Did Abbott make cases for Weston? These three Westons are the likely makers of the silhouette in the Winterthur collection. James and Robert exhibited works in the American Institute annual fairs. Robert submitted a “pen & ink drawing” at the 1846 show, (6) showing that he had the ability to produce at least the silhouette’s background. If Robert, his wife, and James were in business together, that could account for the different styles in signature and silhouettes that are found on Weston Profiles, i.e. block serif script versus cursive script. None of the silhouettes have a first name included in the signature but that is similar to the daguerreotypes produced by the Westons, which can be found in the New-York Historical Society, the J. Paul Getty Museum, and in auction houses. These pieces usually include the name “Weston” and the studio address across the bottom of the frame.

Case for Weston daguerreotype of John Snowden, MD., c. 1845–1852, Cased Image File, Item 2-289, PR 12, New-York Historical Society, New York, NY.

While research concluded that Mary Pillsbury Weston was not the creator of the Weston Profiles, another Mary Weston was most probably involved. The Westons produced silhouettes in the 1840s, and as the daguerreotype became more popular and more accessible to a larger market, they diversified by opening a daguerreotype studio. By the end of the decade and into the 1860s, they started to create photographs and carte-de-visites, continuing to stay abreast of consumer demands. They did not garner the notoriety like famous daguerreotypists Matthew Brady or Jeremiah Gurney, nor did they operate on their scale. In fact, New York City was filled with studios like the Westons’. In 1853, it was estimated that there were 86 portrait galleries in the city. (7) More research needs to be conducted on these smaller enterprises to get a better sense of the operations of a portrait-making and -selling business like the Westons’, and its relationship to a larger network of material production in mid-19th-century New York. You can see this silhouette and others from the Winterthur Library and museum collection in the special loan exhibition In Fine Form: The Striking Silhouette at the Delaware Antiques Show, November 9–11, 2018. Post by Amanda Hinckle, 2017-2018 Robert and Elizabeth Owens Curatorial Fellow, Museum Collections Department, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library Winterthur is very grateful for funding from the National Endowment for the Arts, which has given us the ability to photograph and digitize works on paper in the collection, including these silhouettes. (1) Northeast Auctions. Fall Weekend Auction, October 31-November 1, 2015.Portsmouth, NH: 2015. Auction Catalog. https://northeastauctions.com/product/mary-pillsbury-weston-american-1817-1894-full-length-silhouette-of-a-woman-circa-1840/ (2) Emma Rutherford, Silhouette: The Art of the Shadow (New York: Rizzoli, 2009). (3) J Winchester, “Daguerreotype Portraits,” The New World: A Weekly Journal 5 (November 26, 1842): 351. (4) Although not in the New York City directories until 1848, the arrival of a Robert Weston is reported in the New-York Spectator in 1837, which is backed by immigration records. “Passengers,” New-York Spectator, March 28, 1837. (5) Craig’s Daguerreian Registry, last modified 1998, http://craigcamera.com/dag/. (6) New York Daily Herald, March 17, 1866, 7. (7) Ethan Robey’s dissertation titled “The Utility of Art: Mechanics’ Institute Fairs in New York City, 1828-1876,” includes an appendix listing artists who displayed their work. Ethan Robey, “The Utility of Art: Mechanics’ Institute Fairs in New York City, 1828-1876” PhD diss., Columbia University, New York, 2000. (8) Beaumont Newhall, The Daguerreotype in America, 3rd ed. (New York: Dover, 1976), 55.

Goats of Winterthur

This article was written in June 2017 by Natural Lands Intern Caroline Toth. Sadly, one of the goats that she portrays, Stanley, passed away at the end of August. This wonderful blog post offers not only a joyful glimpse into a little known world at Winterthur, but also timely solace to those of us saddened by the loss of a much-loved four-footed friend. Thank you, Carrie, for providing both.

As the weather warms and the meadow grasses flower, Winterthur’s herd of seven Boer goats is set to work munching areas of Brown’s Woods where invasive shrub-layer plants have taken over. Although our goats can’t discern between native versus non-native plants, the act of defoliation and damage to the non-natives suppresses the populations’ reproductive success. Plus, judging by our goats’ zealous appetites, it would seem that these greens are quite the delicacy, indeed!

Although our sweet (and sometimes spoiled) goats took some time to become accustomed to their temporary pen in the woods, they soon grew to love their home of prolific tasty treats.

It’s not always easy to get goats to do what you want, especially when you are introducing them to something unknown. When our livestock first saw the contraption we devised to transport them from pasture to forest, they harbored some serious reservations. Luckily for us, a mere handful of treats was compensation enough for them to voluntarily enter the cage strapped on to the trailer.

The “Who’s Who” of the Small Ruminant World All seven of our goats are purebred Boer goats. Originally from South Africa, the Boer goat was bred to be as large as possible to maximize profits in the meat market. “The bigger, the better” was the idea behind breeding Boers. Here at Winterthur, our Boers were all given to us as donations from herd owners who loved the goat in question so much that they could not bear to send them to market – and we are so glad, because now, we can’t imagine life without them!

Our first goats were Franklin and Stanley. Stanley is the alpha goat – kind of the wise caretaker of the herd. Franklin came from the same herd as Stanley, but Franklin is as loud as Stanley is quiet! Franklin is determined to make his presence known to every person and animal in the visual vicinity. When he is feeling affectionate, he lets you know by way of rubbing his head on you. When he is annoyed with you, he’ll emit a high-pitched whinny of frustration before slowly clopping away.

Morgan is a former show goat. Although she was born and raised on a meat farm, her good looks saved her from going to market. When she was pregnant with her kids, however, she developed a sway back. Around that same time, the tag on her left ear became stuck in a fence, and she ripped herself free, resulting in a permanently ripped ear. Because show goats are expected to be physically perfect, Morgan’s looks weren’t enough to save her anymore. We are lucky, then, that she had her babies Minnie and Missie. When Morgan’s previous owner saw how sweet they all were together, she donated the three of them to Winterthur to spare them a life of hardship.

Minnie and Missie are twins. They are now one year old – old enough to fend for themselves, in goat culture. But up until April, Morgan defended her kids with her life. She fiercely attacked any goat who came too close to her precious babies, and every human who came near was put under immediate scrutiny. Due to living such sheltered lives, Minnie and Missie developed exceptionally playful and affectionate attitudes. Although they now each fend for themselves, they still maintain the sweet and mischievous affectation they were notorious for when they were babies.

Nora and Riley are half-sisters who came from the same farm. Although they had different mothers, they were born around the same time. As kids, they bonded closely when both of them were donated to Winterthur in 2016. They are each fourteen months old – only two months older than Minnie and Missie – but they didn’t have their mothers around to protect them when they were smaller. Because of this, they had to learn to fend for themselves at an early age. Even though life is much more pleasant for them now, a youth of hardship instilled in them a quiet cleverness that still manifests itself every day.

It’s been a privilege introducing you to Winterthur’s goats! Just one glimpse of these creatures, whether out in the fields grazing or sitting atop their jungle-gym of giant tree stumps, will likely be one of the happiest sights you will see at Winterthur!

The Long Journey of the Charleston Dining Room

Although not currently on a tour, the Charleston Dining Room on Winterthur’s third floor contains woodwork and windows from what was once a fashionable gathering place in antebellum South Carolina. The 18th-century paneling, cornices, fireplace and mantel, and windows are from a hotel that stood in Charleston near the intersection of Broad and Meeting Streets. During its heyday in the 1820s and 1830s, the hotel hosted visitors from across America and Europe.

“Every Englishman who visits Charleston,” wrote one foreign guest in 1833, “will, if he be wise, direct his baggage to be conveyed to Jones’s hotel.” The Old World elegance of its dinners included iced claret that “might have converted even Diogenes into a gourmet.”(1) Another guest was Samuel F. B. Morse, who was then known as a painter rather than as an inventor. Around 1821, Morse came to Charleston and rented rooms behind the Jones Hotel to serve as a portrait studio.

Both guests would have spent time in the Charleston Dining Room. Located on the second floor of the hotel’s main building, it probably functioned not as a dining room but as a drawing room, where guests might gather after meals. The bay window projected over the main entrance on Broad Street, giving guests a clear view of city hall.

The Jones Hotel was also just a few hundred feet from the headquarters of Charleston’s city guard. After nine o’clock at night, the guard would arrest black residents, whether enslaved or free, who ventured out of doors. A German duke staying at the hotel around 1825 recounted hearing a warning call from inside his room, noting that he was “startled to hear the retreat and reveillé beat there.”(2) The Joneses, for all their importance to the social life of the elites—and although they were slaveholders themselves—were among the people being targeted.

What is now the Charleston Dining Room may be the only identifiable surviving part of the main hotel. The building fell into disrepair in the late 19th century and around 1928, it was dismantled and placed in storage. Some pieces, including the paneling in this room, were eventually acquired by the Yale University Art Gallery, where Henry Francis du Pont discovered them in the 1950s. The sections that made up the room were shipped from New Haven and installed at Winterthur, originally serving as a lunch spot for visitors taking all-day tours.

The warm sandy color of the walls is based on the earliest original layer of paint, applied around 1774 when the hotel was constructed as a private home. The white tiles lining the fireplace suggest the patterned Delft tiles popular in Charleston at the time. What comes from the building itself is the carved wood—including the windows, the elaborate decorations above the fireplace, and the two closet doors. The entrance, however, was moved from its original location opposite the bay window in order to fit the current space.

Post by Jonathan W. Wilson, a historian and adjunct faculty member at the University of Scranton and Marywood University.

NOTES
(1) Thomas Hamilton, Men and Manners in America, vol. 2 (Edinburgh and London: William Blackwood and T. Cadell, 1833), 278.
(2) Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar Eisenach, Travels through North America, during the Years 1825 and 1826, vol. 2 (Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Carey, 1928), 7.
SELECTED REFERENCES
Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, Forging Freedom: Black Women and the Pursuit of Liberty in Antebellum Charleston (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011), 99–100.
Albert Simons, “Report of Matters Pertaining to the Removal of the Mansion House, Charleston, South Carolina,” n.d., Winterthur Archives.
Harriet P. Simons and Albert Simons, “The William Burrows House of Charleston,” Winterthur Portfolio 3 (1967): 172-203.
“Jehu Jones: Free Black Entrepreneur,” 1989, Public Programs Packet no. 1, South Carolina Department of Archives and History.
John A. H. Sweeney, The Treasury House of Early American Rooms (New York: W. W. Norton, 1963), 12, 76–77.
Marina Wikramanayake, A World in Shadow: The Free Black in Antebellum South Carolina (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1973), 79, 103–111.

Site of the old Jones Hotel in Charleston

Commemorating Coronations

For the first time in more than 70 years, a new monarch of the United Kingdom will be crowned on May 6—King Charles III. Objects commemorating coronations have been a tradition for hundreds of years, and Winterthur has many examples in its collection.

Panorama portraying the 1821 coronation of King George IV (detail)
England; probably 1822
Hand-colored etching on wove paper in cylinder covered with varnished etching and engraving with hand coloring
*Gift of the Estate of Mrs. George P. Bissell 2020.0017.010a-c*

One of the newest is a remarkable hand-held panorama reel of King George IV’s coronation procession in 1821. The object reveals important information about the historic event and those who participated in it. Wound on a bobbin casing and housed in a wooden cylinder, the paper is pulled through a slot, which allows the holder to witness the procession in action. The panorama reel is on view in Conversations with the Collection in the first floor of the Galleries.

Ceramic mugs and plates are commonly created to commemorate a monarch or a specific event such as a coronation. A delftware plate portrays William of Orange (r. 1689–1702) and his wife, Mary Stuart (r. 1689–1694). The couple, who jointly ruled the kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, is shown in an outdoor setting wearing their coronation attire, with the initials “W M R” for William and Mary Rex/Regina near their heads. This plate was most likely made in Bristol or London around the time of their coronation. Evidence of delft commemorative plates like this one have been found in America, particularly in New England.

Plate commemorating the coronation of William of Orange and Mary Stuart. Made in England, ca. 1689-1694. Earthenware (delftware). Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1954.0535

A more elaborate scene from the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838 is featured on a printed textile in the collection. The swags of flowers that surround the scene resemble those used to decorate fabrics with American patriotic motifs. Evidence of patterns showing Queen Victoria’s coronation have been found in America.

Printed textile showing the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838. Printed in Britain around 1898. Woven cotton, roller printed. Gift of Barbara and Brock Jobe 2006.0016

The ceremony portrayed above hints at the richness of objects used during the coronation—the Crown Jewels, King Edward’s Chair, the Anointing Spoon, and much more. These objects are integral parts of the coronation ceremony and will be used on May 6 for King Charles.

The coronation of King George IV is also represented in the Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens by a pewter tureen, one of a group of table wares created for the banquet following the ceremony. The menu featured turtle soup, which may have been served in this very vessel. The Observer reported that crowds plundered the tables of the coronation banquet, taking the pewter dishes like this one marked for the sovereign. It bears the inscription “G IV R” below a crown.

Tureen. Made by Thomas Alderson. London, England, 1821. Pewter. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.0004.100.001 A-C

One of the tureens that came to Winterthur as part of the Campbell Collection is from a group of pewter tureens and other tableware created for the banquet following the 1821 coronation of George IV. The banquet’s menu featured turtle soup, which may have been served in this very tureen. The Observer reported that crowds plundered the tables of the coronation banquet, taking the pewter dishes like this one marked for the sovereign. It bears the inscription “G IV R” below a crown. Unlike the objects above, which were souvenirs made for purchase, this object was made for use during the coronation festivities, and it was acquired by someone who decided to keep it without permission.

King George IV’s monogram as it appears on the tureen.

Post by Kim Collison, director of exhibitions

Corvettes and the Cold War

During World War II, American GIs could be found all over Europe speeding down country roads in small, powerful, and agile cars that were not available back home: MGs, Allards, Austin Healys, and Triumphs. But it was not just average grunts who were enjoying these cars. Air Force General Curtis LeMay fell in love with sports cars during his time overseas, and after he helped defeat Hitler, he brought an Allard J2 back to the States. By the late 1940s, LeMay was in charge of the Strategic Air Command—the first line of defense against the looming Soviet threat—and encouraged his airmen to race cars on the bases he was stationed at in order to keep their senses, reflexes, and instincts sharp, since they were basically driving a road version of their bombers and fighters.

Air Force General, Curtis LeMay was a champion of the American sports car. (https://www.velocetoday.com/people/people_55.php)

LeMay knew that America’s new superpower status meant it needed a sports car that could rival anything coming out of the Old World. He encouraged legendary auto designer Harley Earl to come up with what became America’s sensational sports car—the Chevrolet Corvette. Named after the highly maneuverable, powerful, and crafty military ship that gained fame in the war, helping to save Europe from fascism, this new car embodied the new post-war jet age with tail fins, bullet headlights, and wraparound windshield. Chevy capitalized on military imagery in their advertising. One ad claimed that Corvettes, come upon you “like a Stuka,” and another ad said the new V8 performs like a V2 rocket or missile (appropriate for the Cold War and the burgeoning space race). Other ads compared Corvette to Europe’s best sports cars—often goading Italy’s Ferrari, Germany’s Mercedes and Porsche, and England’s MGs and Jaguars—in essence “doing America proud” with a sports car that matched its ascendency in the post-war world.

This advertisement from 1957 pokes jabs at European sports cars while referencing the fighter planes of the Second World War. (https://i0.wp.com/www.curbsideclassic.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Corvette-1957-Ad-01.jpg)

The Cold War imagery is hard to deny in this Corvette ad from 1955. (https://www.hobbydb.com/catalog_items/1955-corvette-ad-the-v8-that-goes-like-a-v2)

America’s status as a superpower came with “doing America proud” in sports cars—a formerly European domain. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/510314201509816659/)

This was also the era of the Space Race—a hotly contested theater in a now interstellar Cold War. Astronauts were courageous, daring, and talented men who lived life on the very edge. They needed machines that were speedy, responsive, and powerful to survive in the great unknown. What better car than the Corvette to serve these modern-day heroes and mimic the vehicles they took to space. They often raced at Cape Canaveral, pushing their bodies to the limit in preparation for launch. Indeed, from the Mercury missions on, the Corvette was the official car of astronauts. The Apollo 12 crew was so enamored that they each had matching gold ’69 Corvettes with black trim, and their mission roles written on the doors. The space imagery even carried over to the advertising for 1969, which touted its high performance and removable T-top with the catchphrase, “10 Seconds to Lift Off.”

Corvette and the Space Race were linked—this time the launch of a rocket mimics the way the new T-top lifts off the Corvette. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/106045766200823579/)

In the Space Race, Corvette was the official car of American astronauts. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/573786808751613737/)

Indeed, from the country roads of England in the waning days of World War II to the airstrips of the Strategic Air Command to the Final Frontier, the Corvette was not just a reflection of the Cold War era, but an active participant in the culture of the Cold War. Join us for Winterthur After Hours, Friday, May 26, where you can see vintage Corvettes and hear Thomas give a brief talk on Corvettes and the Cold War. In addition, Thomas will give a full lecture on the topic on Saturday, May 27, during Historic Autos and on July 6. Winterthur.org/afterhours Post by Thomas Guiler, Manager and Instructor, Academic Programs Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library References: Jeremy R. Kinney, “Racing on Runways: The Strategic Air Command and Sports Car Racing in the 1950s,” Icon 19, Special Issue Playing with Technology: Sports and Leisure (2013) Jerry W. Passon, The Corvette in Literature and Culture: Symbolic Dimensions of America’s Sports Car (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2011) Karl Ludvigsen, Corvette: America’s Star-Spangled Sports Car, The Complete History (Cambridge, MA: Bentley Books, 2014) Automobile Quarterly, Corvette: Thirty Years of Great Advertising (Princeton: Princeton Publishing, 1983) Randy Leffingwell, Corvette: Seven Generations of American High Performance (Minneapolis, MN: Motorbooks, 2015) Randy Leffingwell, Legendary Corvettes (Minneapolis, MN: Motorbooks, 2010)

H. F. du Pont's Chestertown House

It’s 1919, and you have a one-year-old daughter. Delaware summers can be oppressive, and in the days before widespread air conditioning, there is not much relief. Where do you go to escape the heat? This was the decision faced by Henry Francis and Ruth du Pont.

They had many options—the beach, the mountains, or a European trip. People in their social circle tended to congregate in familiar places with family and friends. At times, it was as if the elite of a city was transported en masse to these summer retreats.

The extended du Pont family had no single destination, but Rehoboth Beach, the Chesapeake, Maine, and Fishers Island in New York all had their devotees. H. F. and Ruth du Pont made a different choice—Southampton on Long Island. Winterthur may have produced the happiest moments and memories for H. F., but for Ruth it was Southampton, where she had summered as a girl at her grandfather’s and uncle’s shingle-style houses with wide porches and green lawns. So in 1919, H. F. du Pont and family joined the summer colony there, renting a house for the season. In 1924 they decided to build and bought a choice piece of land along the dunes of recently opened Meadow Lane, situated between the bay and the ocean.

Having been inspired to collect American antiques on a visit to his friend Electra Havemeyer Webb at Shelburne in Vermont the previous year, H. F. was set on an American-style house. He picked the firm of Cross & Cross of New York, the architects who designed Webb’s “Brick House.” Woodwork purchased by du Pont in 1925 from an eighteenth-century house in Chestertown, Maryland, inspired the name of his new summer residence. Henry Davis Sleeper helped to create the interiors while Marian Coffin created the landscape. H. F. du Pont never did things in a small or lackadaisical way. Every detail, every piece of furniture, each window treatment, was carefully chosen with regard for color, symmetry, and overall effect.

Chestertown House terrace, Henry Francis du Pont, Ruth Wales du Pont, Pauline Louise du Pont, Ruth Ellen du Pont, ca. 1930

On August 4,1926, the du Ponts moved into their new summer house. With fifty rooms, including nine bedrooms and eleven full bathrooms, Chestertown House was not your typical seaside home. Photos of the interiors and the terraced lawn looking out to the Atlantic seem completely in keeping with H. F.’s style, taking into consideration Ruth’s desire for a less-formal house than Winterthur.

Photos of the rooms show they are similar to many other summer houses of the du Pont’s social set. Less high-style furniture and ceramics and more simple pieces of pine or maple, hooked rugs, ship models, quilts, brightly colored ceramics, and pewter. It has often been said that Chestertown was H. F.’s incubator house, where he first experimented with decorating with American objects and an innovative use of color. It became the foundation for Winterthur, and he even considered that someday it might also be a museum. But in 1931, after the major expansion of Winterthur, H. F. began to move some pieces to his Delaware house and eventually, even elements of historic architecture. Now Chestertown was more of a family home—Ruth’s place to get away and relax with her daughters and then grandchildren.

Chestertown House living room, note the pine and maple furniture and hooked rugs, 1927

What became of Chestertown House? Despite a brief consideration of selling it in 1933 as the Depression weighed heavily on family finances, they decided to keep it. The house meant summer to several generations of this branch of the du Pont family. With H. F.’s death in 1969, some objects came to Winterthur, many went to his daughters, and others were sold.

The fate of the house thereafter is a fascinating tale. After brief notoriety when it was owned in the 1980s by Baby Jane Holzer, a member of Andy Warhol’s inner-circle, it mutated into Dragon’s Head, a turreted castle complete with a basement shark tank. Obviously, the new owner had a rather different idea than H. F. about what made an attractive summer house. Stripped of most of its historic interiors, it continued to change under subsequent ownership and renaming and eventually was called Elysium.

Fashion designer Calvin Klein purchased the property in 2003 and had Elysium demolished in 2009. He built a new house on the site—a sleek, white modern structure that overlooked the dunes. Some of the few intact elements of historic paneling were removed before the demolition, and an architect working in traditional styles incorporated them into a new house. In 2020, Klein sold the house and land where the du Pont family summer house once sat—then and now a choice piece of property on Meadow Lane—to an unknown buyer for $84 million.