Crossing the threshold of the imposing front doors of the Lippitt House feels like stepping right into a quiet Victorian afternoon. With so many original furnishings and details exactly in their place, it would feel appropriate if Mary Ann Lippitt herself—who had the house built with her husband, Governor Henry Lippitt—greeted you in the reception room with a pot of tea.
Lippitt House has received national attention for its preservation: a New York Times article from 1995 boasts that “thanks to the Lippitt’s care and continuous residence from 1865 to 1981, when the museum opened its doors in 1992 it revealed one of the most complete, authentic, and intact Victorian homes in the country.” This level of preservation is rare because many families in the 20th-century auctioned off the furnishings of their historic homes to pay for upkeep, and house museums are often tasked with either tracking down original pieces or finding period-style replacements. Even the Lippitt House has a history with auctions, but despite records showing that about 160 Lippitt items were sold in 1980, most were not original to 1865. Almost every piece of the original furnishings, from marble statues to ornate maple bedroom sets, remains in the home today.
Such a feat of preservation deserves more than a general nod to “the Lippitt’s care.” Lippitt House is unique in that it was passed down through a line of women who acted as stewards of family tradition and conservators of the property. The next two generations after Mary Ann meticulously documented every item in the home and ensured its Victorian legacy. And although there have been many contributors to the preservation efforts, the house would not exist as it is today without the work of Abby Hunter and Mary Doolittle (daughter and granddaughter, respectively, of Mary Ann Lippitt).
When Mary Ann died in 1889, most of the estate—rich with family heirlooms and treasures from abroad—was left to her three daughters. A notebook from 1893 shows that the women detailed nearly every item in the house and divided them amongst themselves based on value. The house itself went to Abby Hunter along with much of the original furniture and decor so that it would stay within the home.
Abby’s marriage brought an influx of furnishings and she made her own purchases such as the carved oak tri-fold screen that remains in the dining room today. When Abby grew ill in the 1940s, the next generation was once again tasked with taking inventory and making even divides. On an appraisal from 1947, a few months after Abby died, her four daughters took to the margins, penciling their initials next to furnishings they wished to keep and the pieces they would sell. As Mary Doolittle, her oldest daughter, became the next owner of the house, her initials are found by all the original Lippitt furnishings. Only one piece of original furniture was nearly caught up in the mix: a marble top Victorian table is labeled with the word “sell” on the inventory, but “sell” is crossed out and “M” for Mary is marked next to it. Despite its almost forgotten lineage, the table sits in the first-floor hall today.
Throughout the mid to late-20th century, the cost and effort of maintaining such a grand Victorian home was duly felt by the family. The third floor was converted to a family apartment and plans were set into motion for the house to enter its museum era. Mary Doolittle painstakingly took inventory once more in 1965, but in this particular handwritten journal, there is a new category: furnishings that would remain in the house in agreement with a newly formed corporation for the preservation of the property. As you might have guessed, these pieces were all originally purchased for the house, exactly 100 years before.
Walking through the house now, we can thank Abby and Mary for their initiative to preserve it. This work is part of a larger trend of a female driven Lippitt legacy that is evident even in family traditions. If you happened to visit c. 1945 during the holiday season, you might step into the Dining Room and come across one of these traditions that is best summed up by a moment from an oral history interview with Esther Ames, daughter of Mary Doolittle, and Alex Reynolds, niece of Mary Doolittle:
Alex: “And then turkey, and who carved the turkey?”
Esther: “Oh, the girls did. [...]”
Alex: “...I can remember someone coming and saying, “What? The women are
carving?”’
Two family photos from the 1940s show women carving the meat for the table.
Kayleigh Danowski Sc.B Candidate '25 Psychology & History of Art and Architecture Cogut Institute for the Humanities Fellow Brown University
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