The Breakers

Listen first. Beyond the lawn, past the line of the cliffs, the Atlantic breaks against the rocks with a slow, heavy rhythm. That sound gave this house its name. Salt hangs in the air, and on a bright day the pale limestone of the façade almost glows against the sea. You are standing at the summer home of one of the richest families in American history. And yet, in the language of the people who built it, this enormous palace was simply called a cottage.

Newport, Rhode Island, became the summer address of America's wealthiest families in the late nineteenth century. This period is often called the Gilded Age. The writer Mark Twain helped popularise that name, and it describes a time of vast industrial fortunes and very visible spending. Families from New York and beyond came here for a few weeks each summer. They built houses along Bellevue Avenue and the cliffs, and each house tried to outdo the last.

The Breakers belonged to Cornelius Vanderbilt the Second. He was a grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt, the shipping and railroad magnate known as the Commodore. The Commodore built one of the largest fortunes in the country. His grandson became head of the family business and inherited much of that wealth. He was known as a serious, hardworking man and a devout churchgoer. He was also a generous philanthropist. This house was his family's retreat from the heat and noise of New York City.

Here is the first surprise. This is not the first Breakers. An earlier house of the same name stood on this land, built mostly of wood. Vanderbilt bought that property in the 1880s. In 1892, the wooden house burned down. Vanderbilt did not simply rebuild. He asked for something very different, and above all, something that would not burn. That one fear shaped almost every decision you can see around you today.

To design the new house, Vanderbilt chose Richard Morris Hunt. Hunt was one of the leading American architects of his day. He was the first American to study at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, the most respected school of architecture of the time. Hunt looked to the palaces of Renaissance Italy, especially the grand merchant houses of cities such as Genoa. Those palaces belonged to rich trading families. The comparison was intentional. The Vanderbilts saw themselves as a new kind of merchant prince.

Construction ran from 1893 to 1895. That is remarkably fast for a house of this size. The finished building has around seventy rooms. Look at the walls and you will see stone, not timber. The structure uses steel and brick, and wood was kept out of the frame as much as possible. One often-told detail is that the furnaces sat well away from the main house, under the grounds. The goal was simple. If a fire started in the boilers, the family rooms would stay safe.

Now step inside, into the Great Hall. This is the heart of the house, and it is designed to stop you in your tracks. The room rises through two full storeys. Light falls from above. The walls are faced in carved stone and marble, and a grand staircase climbs toward the upper floors. Notice how the hall opens to the ocean side through tall glass doors. On a clear day, the line of the sea sits right there at the end of the room, like part of the decoration.

Much of the interior was created with help from French and Italian craftsmen. A Parisian firm of decorators, Jules Allard and Sons, worked on many of the formal rooms. Some rooms were built in workshops in Europe, then taken apart, shipped across the Atlantic, and put back together here. Pay attention to the ceilings as you walk. Painted skies, gilded mouldings and carved figures appear above you again and again. Visitors often miss them because the walls and furniture hold their eyes first.

Here is the second surprise, and it is a small one. In the bathrooms, the tubs had taps for both fresh water and heated sea water. Salt-water bathing was believed to be good for health at the time. So the family could bring the ocean indoors, warm it, and soak in it. The house also had electricity when it was built, which was still new technology. Some fittings were made to work with both gas and electric light, in case the new system failed.

The family did not have long to enjoy it together. In 1896, only a year after the house was finished, Cornelius Vanderbilt the Second suffered a stroke. He died a few years later, in 1899. His widow, Alice, kept the house and continued to spend summers here for many years. It is worth holding that human story in mind as you move through these grand rooms. Behind all the marble was a family that lost its centre very quickly.

The Breakers stayed in the family well into the twentieth century. In 1948, one of the Vanderbilt daughters, Countess Gladys Széchenyi, began opening the house to the public. Later, the Preservation Society of Newport County took over the property, and it now cares for the house and many of the furnishings that remain from the family years. The building is today a National Historic Landmark, a formal recognition of its importance to American history and architecture.

When you go back outside, take your time on the grounds. The lawns slope gently toward the sea. Trees and hedges frame the house and screen it from the street. Look for the wrought-iron gates and the high fence on the street side, which show how the family balanced display with privacy. On the ocean side, the public Cliff Walk runs along the edge of the property. From there, you can see the back of the house as passing walkers have seen it for more than a century.

Before you leave, stand for a moment and look back at the façade. Count the arches. Follow the line of the roof against the sky. Then listen again for the waves below the cliffs... the same sound that named the first house and survived its fire. Much has changed around Newport since the Gilded Age. The sea has not changed. As you walk away, notice how the noise of the ocean slowly fades behind you, and the house becomes quiet stone again.