When Morgan died on March 31, 1913, his worth was estimated to be more than $68 million. He had made his fortune by timely, forceful acts, among them the control he and his senior partner Anthony Drexel exerted over the federal securities market in the early 1870s, his effective reorganization of several railroads in the 1880s and his banking investments and the consolidation of major corporations (General Electric, American Telephone and Telegraph, International Harvester and U.S. Steel) in the 1890s and the early years of the twentieth century. Born on April 17, 1837, he began life with a solid silver spoon in his mouth. His father, Junius Spencer Morgan, was also a banker, based in London after 1854. J. P. went to a private school in Vevey, Switzerland, and later studied for two years at the University of Göttingen.
Although $68 million amounted to a personal treasury that could be equaled or surpassed by a number of his contemporaries, the power Morgan could exert could be matched only by a few. He was asked by President Grover Cleveland in 1895 to protect federal gold reserves from a run on their resources and in 1907 he was instrumental in setting the course to stabilize the stock market in a time of panic. As pervasive as his influence in national finance was his influence on the international art market. Under the heading “Art Dealers Alarmed,” the New York Times reported the nervous reaction to his death in Rome: “J. Pierpont Morgan’s death has caused something akin to consternation among art dealing circles in London, not so much because he himself was for so many years the greatest buyer, but because his example stirred the ambition of others, and the threat of his competition stimulated other wealthy collectors.”
With his strong family credentials, Morgan did not have to scramble or act slyly in his business ventures; he was known in the world of finance as a trustworthy hard worker and hard driver. Furthermore, he did not manifest a nouveau-riche weakness for a trendy address or a fashionably designed street front. In fact, the Morgans were one of the rare New York families of means to move south rather than north in the early 1880s. Formerly at 6 East 40th Street, in 1880 they purchased a larger house, a brownstone at the northeast corner of Madison Avenue and East 36th Street, for $215,000. Built in 1853–56, the house was one of three brownstones erected by members of the copper firm of Phelps, Dodge and Company between East 36th and East 37th Streets. Morgan hired Christian Herter of the respected Herter Brothers company to make the necessary structural alterations and to redecorate the interior. Herter moved the principal entrance from Madison to East 36th Street and replaced the void with the great bay window of the drawing room, maintaining in the process the basic character of the original facades. The family moved in during the summer of 1882. In addition to this city house, the Morgans owned “Cragston,” a 700-acre estate at Highland Falls on the west side of the Hudson River. Morgan’s house at Prince’s Gate, London, and “Dover House,” a country retreat near the Thames outside of London, had formerly been owned by his father.
Of Morgan’s two marriages, the first ended tragically and the second, apparently, faded into a relationship of accommodation. Amelia Sturges was not well when Morgan proposed and then insisted, despite her deteriorating condition, that they marry. The wedding took place in 1861; a few months later she died of consumption. In 1865 he married Frances Louise Tracy, who, with her four children, survived him. Fanny did not share his addiction to art and traveled with him less frequently as their partnership aged. Although they did entertain, the Morgans did not try to compete with the Astors, Vanderbilts or Martins socially. Stories of the increasingly taciturn J. P. playing solitaire at his own parties contributed to his national reputation as a dark, brooding sphinx. Yet he was a dedicated Episcopalian who supported his church through gifts and even by participating in diocesan meetings. The Times classified him as a generous millionaire who had not hoarded his wealth but had distributed it “quietly and spontaneously.”
At the time these photographs were taken, Morgan was not known for astute or bold art purchases. Granted, Earl Shinn included the Morgan paintings in The Art Treasures of America (1879–82), but he regarded the collection, rightly, as one of the minor ones of the country. Morgan owned about 35 paintings which included numerous subject categories from the leading national schools of Europe but also included American artists—Church, S. R. Gifford, Kensett, Vedder. Morgan did not begin to collect manuscripts until the late 1880s. From then on he spent more than $60 million acquiring whole art and manuscript collections to obtain choice pieces and paying high prices for the single works he wanted—for example, $500,000 for Raphael’s Madonna with Saints of 1503–05 and an equal amount for a Gothic tapestry from Aygalades near Marseilles. Because Morgan had served as president of the board of the Metropolitan Museum from 1904 until 1913, New Yorkers expected him to will his collection to the museum; however, only 40 percent of his works were given, in part because a Morgan wing in the museum was never approved.
In 1906 McKim, Mead and White completed the Morgan Library, 29 East 36th Street, to house Morgan’s remarkable collection of rare books, manuscripts and letters. In 1928 an annex to the library was erected on the site of this brownstone.
155, 156. Staircase, J. Pierpont Morgan house, 219 Madison Avenue, New York, New York; architect unknown, 1853–56; demolished 1927. The front doors of Circassian walnut on the East 36th Street side admitted visitors to a vestibule that had a mosaic floor and ceiling. On one side was a coat room; a dressing room was on the other. Two stained-glass sliding doors, visible in number 155, separated the vestibule from the stair hall, the floor of which was also finished in mosaic. Three stories above was a stained-glass dome designed in the studio of John La Farge.
On the right, a short stairway led to the main level of the house. On this level and directly opposite the front door was a recessed mantelpiece of oak that held The Bird Song by the German painter Wilhelm von Kaulbach (1805–1874). The top of this painting can be seen under the second-story railing in number 156. Immediately to the left of the fireplace was a door to the reception room and farther to the left was the entrance to the drawing room along Madison Avenue. To the right were the morning room of Mrs. Morgan and the library.
American white oak was used for the staircase. While its wainscoting was simple and beat a steady rhythm for ascent and descent, the panels under the railing were meticulously packed with spindles. In the spandrels of the triple arch of the first landing, small pieces of stained glass were set between gilt wires within squares of oak. Standing in front of the fireplace, one could enjoy the effects of light coming from the small conservatory over the vestibule.
The most innovative feature of the house was its electrical system, one of the first, if not the first, installed in a New York City house. Morgan had met Thomas Alva Edison in 1881, at the time that Christian Herter was remodeling and redecorating the interior of 219 Madison Avenue. We see several naked bulbs hanging in the stair hall. To provide power for these lights, a steam generator was installed in the basement of the stable behind the house. However, short circuits occurred when maintenance personnel forgot their required daily check of the equipment. Once the system short-circuited at 11:00 P.M., while the Morgans were entertaining a crowd of friends. On another occasion, hot wires burned Morgan’s library desk and carpet. According to Herbert Satterlee (J. Pierpont Morgan, 1939), Everitt H. Johnson, Edison’s assistant, was examining the damage when Morgan appeared in the library and asked, “What are you going to do about it?”
Johnson answered, “Mr. Morgan, the trouble is not inherent in the thing itself. It is my own fault, and I will put it in good working order so that it will be perfectly safe.”
Pierpont asked, “How long will it take to fix it?”
Johnson answered, “I will do it right away.”
“All right,” said Pierpont, “see that you do.” And he turned and went down the hall and so on out.
The result of the new installation was so satisfactory that Pierpont gave a reception, and about four hundred guests came to the house and marveled at the convenience and simplicity of the lighting system.
157. Drawing room, J. Pierpont Morgan house. Sheldon thought this drawing room emitted an “aroma of perfect taste.” Though “Pompeian” in inspiration, he admitted it was “no slavish copy.” And if it was not a plagiarism of another epoch’s taste, neither was it a blunt or egotistical declaration of contemporary preferences. Sheldon liked the reminder of Pompeii and, for that matter, the flavor of Japan and Persia, all delicately combined with restraint and coolness in this spacious setting. Christian Herter understood that the distinguishing feature of this drawing room was its length; the opening to the central bay, which once had been the entranceway from Madison Avenue, was 17′ feet wide. He reinforced this impression of length by the simple ceiling, the continuous cove and frieze and the low center of gravity.
Herter’s ability to coordinate eclectic elements was impressive. He painted the lower woodwork in ivory sprinkled with flecks of gold, the wooden frieze and pilasters in Pompeian red, and kept the coved ceiling a light tone. The hangings of silk and gold thread elaborated with Persian embroidery were made in Japan. The chair coverings were black accented with gold thread. For the divans and cushions, Herter chose cherry plush, also highlighted with Persian embroidery. The rugs were Persian.
There were four focal points in this room: the elliptical mantelpiece projecting from the north wall; the alcove; the entrance to the hall opposite it; and the window (here unseen) on the south. Remaining wall surfaces were accented with works from the Morgan collection.
158. Library, J. Pierpont Morgan house. Unshaded bulbs hang from the ceiling of the drawing room and on the fireplace side of Morgan’s library. Perhaps in these early years of domestic electric lighting the miracle deserved to be exhibited rather than partially obscured by shades. In addition to the lights hanging from the ceiling, Herter included wall sconces and shaded desk lamps in this room. The absence of sconces and table lighting from the drawing room was one of the reasons for the neat appearance of that large space.
The finish of this room, including its high wainscoting and comfortable inglenook, was fine Santo Domingo mahogany. To separate this fireplace recess from the rest of the room, Herter elevated its floor and tiled both floor and fire front with squares of blue and ochre. The soft furniture was covered with plush of peacock green. The ceiling was divided into octagonal panels, six of which were larger and contained painted allegorical figures representing History and Poetry. Morgan prized this work of Herter: “He painted for me in my library six panels for the ceiling—painted them himself, with his own hands.” When the house was refurbished in 1893, he reportedly said, “Renew, by all means, but retain the original designs of Herter. You cannot improve upon them.” Designed by John La Farge, the stained-glass partitions at the right separated the library from the conservatory.
The library was Morgan’s favorite room—a dark, strong environment in which he held meetings, relaxed with his friends and enjoyed his books. After the library became too small to hold his purchases, he stored his rare books and manuscripts in a basement room. When the Morgan Library was completed in 1906, his manuscript collection was moved next door.
159. Dining room, J. Pierpont Morgan house. In contrast to the restrained elegance of the drawing room, the dining room was impressive because it looked so solid and established. This impression was conveyed largely through the wainscoting of English oak 8′ high, the heavy built-in sideboard to the right and the broad mantel with deep niches below and above to the left. The mantel area, 12′ wide and 10′ high, was faced with Siena marble. Surrounded by oak and leather chairs, the table appeared to be underscaled and unequal to the challenge of its environment. Above it was a skylight, 12′ square. The painting over the sideboard is Near Damascus by Frederick Church, and below it, reflected in the mirror, is a miniature statue of the Primaporta Augustus, a work of art popular in the homes chosen for Artistic Houses.
160. Dining room, Joseph H. White house, 535 Boylston Street, Brookline, Massachusetts; Peabody and Stearns, architects, 1880–81; standing but altered. “Elmhurst” was a rambling house designed in the Queen Anne style but remodeled in 1924 to look more stately and less picturesque. When the house was completed in 1881, White, 57, had been married twice—to Mary E. Stantan on January 13, 1853, and to Ellen Tewksbury on November 13, 1855—had four children from the second marriage and was a prosperous partner in the firm of White, Payson and Company of Boston. The company marketed products of the Manchester Mill of Manchester, N.H.
The dining room, on the south side of the house, was connected to the hall through double doors. Four linked windows brightened a room in which the furnishings were dark and the furniture and fixed pieces heavy: The room expressed New England’s respect for strong woodwork. The thick table stretchers, heavy sideboard, 15′-wide arch over the mantel and emphatic geometric design of the ceiling produced an impression that was solid, old and comfortable. Leather paper in old gold covered the walls above the wainscoting of stained oak. Most of the chairs were finished in leather except those near the arch, which were covered by French embroideries. These textiles and the unidentified paintings and hand-painted ceramics were relieving accents in this heavily finished room.
161. Library, William Goddard house, 38 Brown Street, Providence, Rhode Island; architect unknown, date unknown; standing but altered. William Giles Goddard (1794–1846) commissioned a three-story, foursquare brick house with hip roof at the southwest corner of Brown and George Streets in Providence. It was inherited by his son William Goddard (December 25, 1825–September 29, 1907) in the 1870s. He hired the firm of Stone and Carpenter to double the size of the house and to move the original entrance from George Street to Brown Street. Remodeled in 1880–81, this house was one of the earliest examples of the Colonial Revival. Acquired by Brown University in 1940 and carefully rehabilitated in the mid-1970s, it now serves as the alumni office.
From the center of the library one could see the ponderous fireplace of the dining room through the equally massive doorway separating the two rooms. These two strong forms defined space and determined the artistic roles of supporting pieces. Though part of the interior decoration, the doorway and fireplace were really architectural entities conceived by an architect inclined to miniaturize monumental structures. Even Sheldon, who normally did not dwell on the integration of architecture and interior decoration, hinted that the doorway might be overscaled. “In any ordinary scheme this treatment would seem almost obtrusive….” Pieces such as the Elizabethan Revival lamp and table in the foreground seem dwarfed by the scale of the portal, though the giant Chinese cloisonne urn on a teakwood pedestal certainly held its own. The floor treatment was unusual in two respects: A hardwood floor divided into large geometric patterns by strips of darker wood was not common, and the rugs, surprisingly small for a room of this size, were not arranged to repeat the rectilinear orientation of the frescoed ceiling.
162. Dining room, William Goddard house. There were few overmantels of the early 1880s that expressed the Renaissance Revival in interior decoration as well as this one. At either side of the mirror were plinths that rested on the mantel shelf. These supported columns with molded bases, partially fluted shafts and volutes at the top. Then came the architrave divided into two faciae, a decorated frieze, a register of dentils and a register of projecting blocks supporting the cornice. Note the quiet way in which details of the sideboard repeated details on the built-in woodwork. The rectangles reappeared beside the fixed mirror above, the arches restated those over the entrance from the library, and the tapered pilasters were similar to those at either side of the fire opening. Sheldon predicted approval for this room.
William Goddard married Mary Edith Jenckes on February 19, 1867; their only child, Hope, married C. Oliver Iselin (no. 182) on June 10, 1894. Goddard was a principal in the firms of Brown and Ives and Goddard Brothers, companies that between them owned nine cotton mills. In 1888 he was elected Chancellor of Brown University.