Mansions

The Highlands Ranch Mansion sits on a rise by itself, just below a windmill that towers over the high plain; a grand fortress built from local stones. It was first constructed in the 1880s by a Boston and Ohio railroad tycoon and went through a long succession of owners, including a couple in the 1930s who lavishly extended the stone house to resemble a Tudor mansion, then lost their money in the Great Depression. A later owner used the land for an English style fox hunting club, substituting coyotes for foxes. There has been a share of scandal and heartache here and you can find out more about it at highlandsranchmansion.com.

I love this place and am still exploring its courtyard and the porch that wraps around with sweeping views of the Rockies. I love the path that winds up the hill, past the windmill and past curious chestnut brown horses who sometimes line the fence hoping for an offering of green grass from the other side of the pasture.

I have long been interested in the grand houses of the East and I guess I should not be surprised that this same sentiment for Old World grandeur would have traveled along the railroad and come West. I am thinking of the Hamilton House in Berwick Maine and of course the opulent mansions on the coast of Massachusetts and Rhode Island.

There is a commonality about these places. In the fifty or so years between the Civil War and World War I—think Titanic era as the height of this—a great many men who had wealth from the railroad, steel and oil industries traveled by ship to Europe and looked at ancient castles. With a particularly American mindset they must have said ,“I can do that” ... so they came back home and built replica ivy covered castles on the coast and in the hills of Massachusetts and New York and even threw in some ruins. Of course many of the statues and gargoyles were simply cement rather than marble, but the effect was grand and evocative. The Hamilton House in Berwick, Maine had been built right after the Revolutionary War and fallen into disrepair. It was saved from ruin by a friend of writer Sarah Orne Jewett, Emily Tyson ,who had been to Italy and inspired by her trips, build an ornate Italian garden and a cottage where wealthy friends from Boston staged classical themed plays in the summer (If you are interested, there is wonderful information about these New England homes at historicnewengland.org.).

What fascinates me about these places and people is a seeming duality of thinking . There was American pride; yet on the other hand there was the deeply rooted belief that if it is European, it must be better. I have served as a tour guide at historic houses in New Hampshire and learned that even in the Colonial era, displaying a French armoire or an English Chippendale chair in one’s home was preferable to having locally made goods.

But here’s the thing. Gradually, there was still the French influenced fireplace or English style clock etc., but increasingly, though the designs were purchased from Europe, the curly maple, black walnut, oak or white pine came right from the forests of New Hampshire..The granite and marble came from the abundant supply along the coast and the islands close by.

And now, as I look at the walls of the Highlands Ranch castle-like mansion I think about its red stones dug right from this hard mountain soil. I think about how wily coyotes from the prairie took the place of English foxes and I wonder about the reason for all of this. Why build a castle here? Why have a pretend English fox hunt here on the high desert plain?

There’s a fascinating book written in the 1990s, I think, about the Finger Lakes Region in New York. I wish I could find it and name the local professor who wrote it, but in it, she talks about how the muddy outposts of upstate New York were given grand classical names... Seneca, Rome, Sparta, as if this were an attempt to impose order on disorder; as if assigning a grand name might somehow help to civilize the wilderness. Maybe she gives us a clue about these houses. Maybe building an English mansion in the western wilds was a way to contain it, at least in one’s mind.

At any rate, there is this fascinating blend of old and new, replica and authenticity, and likely an everlasting love/hate sentiment towards the Old World. I don’t know any answers, but I would love to hear some thoughts!