Institution

Deacon J. Foote not only ran the grocery store, but also lived above it while he maintained proprietorship. Currently the store is a private residence. The brick of the building is laid in a pattern so as to make the building as sturdy as possible, in a 1, 5 common bond pattern. This means that there are five rows of stretchers (longer side of the brick) for header row (short end of the brick) of brick. This allows for bricks to form a sturdier pattern of interlocking rows. Observing the type of bond pattern the brick is laid in is helpful in determining when a building was constructed.Although knowing the pattern does not give an exact date of construction, it can narrow the time frame down as certain brick patterns were used before concrete was invented, and vice versa.

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The Deacon J. Foote House was built circa 1760, and is part of the Rocks Village Historic District of Haverhill. One of the only brick buildings constructed in the village, it is also one of the oldest buildings still standing. Built originally as a grocery store, that is what it has remained as for most of its existence. 

Deacon J. Foote House

Rocks Village is situated along the Merrimack River, and gets its name from rocks situated not too far upstream in the river. When the area was first settled in the 1600s, a man named Nathaniel Holt got stuck on some boulders at a bend in the river, thus earning the location the name “Holt’s Rocks”. It has been well documented that by 1652 there was a tavern being operated not too far from where the bridge stands now, named Coffin’s Ordinary. Around 1666, Haverhill was divided, and William Holdridge was granted the land that now includes Rocks Village; he later sold it to Zacharia Davis. Originally an agricultural settlement, the village grew into a commercial and industrial center. During the heyday of shipping, Rocks Village was home to shipyards and several smaller cottage industries scattered throughout the settlement. During the harsh New England winters, because they could not farm, many turned to making shoes and other means to provide for their families. Although it may appear to be a sleepy corner of the city, Rocks Village was once a thriving center with a shipyard, its own groceries, a post office, a school, a doctor, and many other enterprises that you would expect to find in a functioning town. In 1711 John Swett was appointed the ferryman at Rocks Village, a position he would hold for forty years. By 1718 it was known that he had been charged with carrying people across the river for “penny a single person and four pence for a man and horse”. By 1731, Swett owned the land on both sides of East Main Street. By the late 1800’s, Rocks Village had regressed back to a quiet, rural village and a great place to raise a family. The buildings date back to the eighteenth century through the twentieth century. The homes range in style from Federal to Colonial Revivals and are often a mix of architectural styles and features known as vernacular architecture.

Welcome to the Rocks Village Historic District, located in the East Parish of Haverhill, Massachusetts. The district has played a central role in the town’s history, ebbing and flowing between acting as a center of commerce and a quiet agrarian society. This district is made up of 25 buildings which date from the eighteenth to twentieth centuries. Significant buildings include the Hand Tub House, Major Zebulon Ingersoll House, Swartz House, Lt. Samuel Estabrook House, Deacon J. Foote House, and Countess House. The district has historical associations such as poet John Greenleaf Whittier and muralist Rufus Porter.

The Hand Tub House was constructed primarily using Federal stylistic elements; however, the window above the fire door on the façade of the building gives the building a slight classical air. This type of tri-part window, known as a Palladian window, is most common in classical revival styles. Within the street-facing gable there is a circular window, and the bell tower is in the center of the roof. In 2011 the City of Haverhill received funding from the state historical commission to repair and restore the brick piers and also the building’s masonry. Owned by the City of Haverhill and under stewardship of the Rocks Village Memorial Association, the building as of 2018 is part of the Toll House Museum. The original toll house, to the right of the hand tub house, was taken to Michigan to be a part of Henry Ford’s Deerfield Village, but sat next to the bridge from 1828 to 1911. Students from Whittier Regional Vocational Technical High School rebuilt the toll house, constructing the building in a shop at the school where it, once complete, was disassembled and then re-assembled here on site. Students also used the historic blueprints, and all materials were donated by local businesses. Originally the collector in the building would have gathered fees from those using the bridge and during down time would have made shoes there, another industry for which Haverhill is famous.

The Hand Tub House, a central figure of the Rocks Village Historic District, was built in 1840. Called a hand tub house because it housed a manually operated fire-fighting pump, it is essentially an early firehouse. This public building has been used throughout its existence as a firehouse, community center, meeting space, and as part of a museum. 

Hand Tub House

The first phase of the home, the half which is closest to the river, was built sometime before 1782. The second phase of the home was completed in 1814 and was undertaken by the Colonel and his son John. The home used to have a central staircase, but that was removed in the 1930’s along with some interior walls to create a large living room; the original back stairs remain. What is noteworthy about most of the houses and buildings of the neighborhood, including this one, is the fact that they are not oriented towards the river, but rather face the road or towards the center of the village.  No matter how one looks at the house, if you were to cut it right down the middle, it is symmetrical; this is true if you look at the front (north) façade which faces East Main Street and the side (west) façade which faces Wharf Lane. On the north façade there is a centrally located door and two windows to each side. The door on the west façade is also centrally located, but there are only two windows on this façade owing to the fact that the structure is five bays wide and three bays deep. A bay is an opening in the wall of the structure i.e. a window or a door.

This house is known as the Major Zebulon Ingersoll House, circa 1782-83 and part of the Rocks Village Historic District. Zebulon Ingersoll was an officer during the American Revolution as well as a successful merchant and businessman. Constructed in two separate phases, the house is reflective of typical architectural practices of the Federal style.

Major Zebulon Ingersoll House

Deacon J. Foote not only ran the grocery store, but also lived above it while he maintained proprietorship. Currently the store is a private residence.  The brick of the building is laid in a pattern so as to make the building as sturdy as possible, in a 1, 5 common bond pattern. This means that there are five rows of stretchers (longer side of the brick) for header row (short end of the brick) of brick. This allows for bricks to form a sturdier pattern of interlocking rows. Observing the type of bond pattern the brick is laid in is helpful in determining when a building was constructed. Although knowing the pattern does not give an exact date of construction, it can narrow the time frame down as certain brick patterns were used before concrete was invented, and vice versa.

The Estabrooks were a prominent family in Rocks Village and the surrounding towns of Boxford and Andover. The widow Hannah Estabrook established the family in Rocks Village in the mid-18th century after marrying her second husband, Joseph Burrill. Her son Samuel, who she had with her first husband Elijah Estabrook, is said to have built this home. This home has the appearance of a cape, an architectural style common throughout New England, and is arranged to accommodate two families. The house is 1.5 stories in height and did not originally have any windows installed at the back of the house. There are two chimneys, one on each gable end, to accommodate the two separate living quarters.  The home does not much resemble its original appearance, owing to an extensive renovation undertaken by Dr. Timothy Kenison, a subsequent owner of the home. Despite this extensive project, he never actually resided in the house and sold it not long after completing the project. Most of this early renovation has been replaced by a more modern renovation completed in the 1970’s.

The Lt. Samuel Estabrook House is part of the Rocks Village Historic District of Haverhill. Lt. Samuel Estabrook served as a soldier during the Revolutionary War and had the home built. It is unique as it was the first in the historic district to be oriented towards the Merrimack River.

Lt. Samuel Estabrook House

An exiled French aristocrat, the Count François de Vipart, married a girl from Rocks Village by the name of Mary Ingalls on March 21, 1805 and thus she became a countess. John Greenleaf Whittier wrote a poem about Mary titled “The Countess,” included below. She died in less than a year after her marriage from consumption (likely tuberculosis). Her husband returned to his native country, and lies buried in the family tomb of the Viparts at Bordeaux.  This home is where she grew up. The oldest part of the home is a mid-eighteenth century center chimney cape; this is the portion of the house where the countess would have lived. In 1810, a two-story house was added, facing Main Street. The home is decorated by many murals painted by Rufus Porter. Decades after her death, in 1863, John Greenleaf Whittier wrote “The Countess": I know not, Time and Space so intervene,Whether, still waiting with a trust serene,Thou bearest up thy fourscore years and ten,Or, called at last, art now Heaven’s citizen;But, here or there, a pleasant thought of thee,Like an old friend, all day has been with me.The shy, still boy, for whom thy kindly handSmoothed his hard pathway to the wonder-landOf thought and fancy, in gray manhood yetKeeps green the memory of his early debt.To-day, when truth and falsehood speak their wordsThrough hot-lipped cannon and the teeth of swords,Listening with quickened heart and ear intentTo each sharp clause of that stern argument,I still can hear at times a softer noteOf the old pastoral music round me float,While through the hot gleam of our civil strifeLooms the green mirage of a simpler life.As, at his alien post, the sentinelDrops the old bucket in the homestead well,And hears old voices in the winds that tossAbove his head the live-oak’s beard of moss,So, in our trial-time, and under skiesShadowed by swords like Islam’s paradise,I wait and watch, and let my fancy strayTo milder scenes and youth’s Arcadian day;And howsoe’er the pencil dipped in dreamsShades the brown woods or tints the sunset streams,The country doctor in the foreground seems,Whose ancient sulky down the village lanesDragged, like a war-car, captive ills and pains.I could not paint the scenery of my song,Mindless of one who looked thereon so long;Who, night and day, on duty’s lonely round,Made friends o’ the woods and rocks, and knew the soundOf each small brook, and what the hillside treesSaid to the winds that touched their leafy keys;Who saw so keenly and so well could paintThe village-folk, with all their humors quaint,The parson ambling on his wall-eyed roan.Grave and erect, with white hair backward blown;The tough old boatman, half amphibious grown;The muttering witch-wife of the gossip’s tale,And the loud straggler levying his Blackmail,—Old customs, habits, superstitions, fears,All that lies buried under fifty years.To thee, as is most fit, I bring my lay,And, grateful, own the debt I cannot pay.<h2 class="ql-align-center">.  .  .  .  .</h2>Over the wooded northern ridge,    Between its houses brown,To the dark tunnel of the bridge    The street comes straggling down.You catch a glimpse, through birch and pine,    Of gable, roof, and porch,The tavern with its swinging sign,    The sharp horn of the church.The river’s steel-blue crescent curves    To meet, in ebb and flow,The single broken wharf that serves    For sloop and gundelow.With salt sea-scents along its shores    The heavy hay-boats crawl,The long antennae of their oars    In lazy rise and fall.Along the gray abutment’s wall    The idle shad-net dries;The toll-man in his cobbler’s stall    Sits smoking with closed eyes.You hear the pier’s low undertone    Of waves that chafe and gnaw;You start,—a skipper’s horn is blown    To raise the creaking draw.At times a Blacksmith’s anvil sounds    With slow and sluggard beat,Or stage-coach on its dusty rounds    Wakes up the staring street.A place for idle eyes and ears,    A cobwebbed nook of dreams;Left by the stream whose waves are years    The stranded village seems.And there, like other moss and rust,    The native dweller clings,And keeps, in uninquiring trust,    The old, dull round of things.The fisher drops his patient lines,    The farmer sows his grain,Content to hear the murmuring pines    Instead of railroad-train.Go where, along the tangled steep    That slopes against the west,The hamlet’s buried idlers sleep    In still profounder rest.Throw back the locust’s flowery plume,    The birch’s pale-green scarf,And break the web of brier and bloom    From name and epitaph.A simple muster-roll of death,    Of pomp and romance shorn,The dry, old names that common breath    Has cheapened and outworn.Yet pause by one low mound, and part    The wild vines o’er it laced,And read the words by rustic art    Upon its headstone traced.Haply yon white-haired villager    Of fourscore years can sayWhat means the noble name of her    Who sleeps with common clay.An exile from the Gascon land    Found refuge here and rest,And loved, of all the village band,    Its fairest and its best.He knelt with her on Sabbath morns,    He worshipped through her eyes,And on the pride that doubts and scorns    Stole in her faith’s surprise.Her simple daily life he saw    By homeliest duties tried,In all things by an untaught law    Of fitness justified.For her his rank aside he laid;    He took the hue and toneOf lowly life and toil, and made    Her simple ways his own.Yet still, in gay and careless ease,    To harvest-field or danceHe brought the gentle courtesies,    The nameless grace of France.And she who taught him love not less    From him she loved in turnCaught in her sweet unconsciousness    What love is quick to learn.Each grew to each in pleased accord,    Nor knew the gazing townIf she looked upward to her lord    Or he to her looked down.How sweet, when summer’s day was o’er,    His violin’s mirth and wail,The walk on pleasant Newbury’s shore,    The river’s moonlit sail!Ah! life is brief, though love be long;    The altar and the bier,The burial hymn and bridal song,    Were both in one short year!Her rest is quiet on the hill,    Beneath the locust’s bloom:Far off her lover sleeps as still    Within his scutcheoned tomb.The Gascon lord, the village maid,    In death still clasp their hands;The love that levels rank and grade    Unites their severed lands.What matter whose the hillside grave,    Or whose the blazoned stone?Forever to her western wave    Shall whisper blue Garonne!O Love!—so hallowing every soil    That gives thy sweet flower room,Wherever, nursed by ease or toil,    The human heart takes bloom!—Plant of lost Eden, from the sod    Of sinful earth unriven,White blossom of the trees of God    Dropped down to us from heaven!—This tangled waste of mound and stone    Is holy for thy sake;A sweetness which is all thy own    Breathes out from fern and brake.And while ancestral pride shall twine    The Gascon’s tomb with flowers,Fall sweetly here, O song of mine,    With summer’s bloom and showers!And let the lines that severed seem    Unite again in thee,As western wave and Gallic stream    Are mingled in one sea!

The Countess House was the childhood home of Mary Ingalls, the Haverhill woman who famously married an exiled French Count. It was built circa 1750 and is a part of the Rocks Village Historic District of Haverhill. The story of Mary was described in John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem “The Countess.”

The Countess House

The house was not built to conform to any particular architectural style, but more likely was built to suit the needs and taste of those the house was being built for. With elements reminiscent of the Federal style, such as symmetry and simplicity, but no distinguishing features, it represents a vernacular style home as it does not fit into any particular architectural style but rather may represent a style unique to a particular region. In comparison to earlier homes in the village, the contrasts between the eras of construction can be observed in the slope of the roof, the appearance of the windows, and the overall mass of the house. This house is tall and skinny in appearance, and owing to this the ceiling heights are higher and the space in the attic is most likely accessible for something other than storage. The roof is gabled, front-facing, and steeply pitched.  In about 1810, a two story addition was made to the house, and it is now shaped like an “L.” The home is also unique due to the presence of murals painted by Rufus Porter, a well-known itinerant painter from the 19th century, which cover many of the walls within the house. These murals include a landscape and river scene spanning four walls in the foyer and stairwell. On the first level the windows are 12 over 12 bays, and on the second level the windows are 12 over 8. The centrally-located front door has a fanlight above, and pilasters on either side. The home has a low-pitched, side-gable shaped roof and two end position chimneys.

The Swartz House was built circa 1898, and despite being over one hundred years old, is actually one of the newest homes constructed in the Rocks Village Historic District of Haverhill. This house is unique for its large murals inside, painted by muralist Rufus Porter, as well as its exterior appearance.

Rocks Village Historic District

Deacon J. Foote House

Introduction

Backstory and Context

Sources

Additional Information