It is literally the first step that counts

In the 19th century, great symbolic importance was placed not only on the functions ascribed the different rooms of the house, but also on the manner in which the rooms were decorated. Harriet Prescott Spofford emphasized that the appearance of the entrance hall would be seen as both reflection of the house's decor as a whole, and (perhaps more importantly) as a reflection of the character and hospitality of the home's owner:

"Too much thought and attention, indeed, cannot be given to this first step within the portals of the house. It is literally the first step that counts. The empty and careless hall, with its hap-hazard carpet, its chance table and chair, or its common rack and stand and its bare wall, cannot but chill the owner, every time he enters, with its unhomelike aspect; cannot but tell the stranger that guests are few and not expected - perhaps not too welcome; while the comfortable one where thought and time have been spent, if not a mint of money, stamps the house with the seal of some trained taste, refinement, and intelligence, and with a sense of warmth, of comfort, and of cordial hospitality, which latter, if some think to be a matter choice others, in the love of their fellow man, like the Arab, hold to be a duty." (Art Decoration Applied to Furniture, 1878)

While a typical representation of the domestic entry-hall in the popular press or plan-book might have been that of a capacious room (with fireplace, inglenook, elaborate multi-landing staircase and floorspace enough to accomodate hall seats, a hall table, hall tree, coat rack, card receiver, stick-stand, statuary and a potted palm), it was also acknowledged by the decorating advice writers that those illustrations were anything but typical in practice. In 1882, Maria Oakey Dewing wrote in Beauty in the Household:

"There is nothing more gloomy than a little, dark passage-way of a hall. For one large hall there are a thousand small ones..."

Our entrance hall is narrow and long, extending fully one room deep and with half of the the double front doors opening directly onto the staircase. Reflective of the "in-town" and compact design of the house, our side hall would be equally appropriate in a more urban setting - indeed, with just a single window at the top of the stairs, the effect of the outside wall, nearly devoid of openings, echoes the party walls found in row houses or a British town house:

"The general arrangement consists, as a rule, of a narrow entrance-hall, widened out to make room for the staircase which stares you in the face as you enter.... lighted from back or front." (Robert Edis, Decoration of Furniture and Town Houses, 1881)

Writing in her book How to Furnish a Home (1881), Ella Rodman Church wrote (rather unoptimistically):

"The question is what to do with the hall as it ordinarily exists. With a hall like that found in many moderate sized city houses - where the long flight of narrow stairs seems to have started on a run from the upper story and just to have stopped short of rushing out the front door - long and narrow, all the width being needed for the parlors, very little can be accomplished in the way of beauty. There is only to cover floor and walls to the best advantage, and put as little on them as possible."

Oh dear! What hope can there be for a long, narrow and all-too-ordinary hall, such as ours?

Image: "Entrance Hall of a Modern New York House" (from The Art Amateur, December 1889)