Many 18th & 19th Century period beds had headposts and footposts that didn’t match? The ornamental posts were designed for the center of the room while the plainer posts were against the wall.

Bed rails were often taken from a plainer, more plentiful tree than the posts? Rails were considered functional but not decorative.

Tall post beds were designed over 80″ tall to hold a canopy frame? This frame supported the fabric that was used to provide the occupants with warmth and privacy?

Field height beds were designed with short posts of 65″-70″ to be more portable than their tall cousins? The shorter posts allowed for two alternate canopy frames - the bow and the ogee.

Finials were introduced after 1800 as additional ornaments on top of the canopy frame? Later they were used instead of a canopy.

Up until 1860, twin beds were very rare except in the warmest climates? Without central heat, sleeping several to a bed was quite common.

Beds were designed to sleep high above the floor? When the fire went out, it would be warmer and safer from nocturnal beings.

Pine was the predominant wood used in headboards? Regardless of the wood used for the posts - cherry, maple or imported mahogany - headboards were pine which was abundant, available in wide widths and easy to mill.

Until 1820, many beds were made without bolts? Early beds were held together by a network of ropes.

Highly desirable tiger maple is not a species of tree? Tiger or curly maple is actually an accident of growth and cannot be cultivated.

When you climb into an antique bed for the night, you wrap yourself in a bit of history. You imagine the many people it’s nurtured, the whispers it’s heard, the romance it’s seen. And you can’t help but imagine how much more comfortable you’d be if your feet weren’t colliding with the footboard, if your arm wasn’t dangling over the side.

So antique beds aren’t perfect. Sizes weren’t standardized until this century, and old beds - commonly three-quarter size - are usually too short or narrow for modern mattresses; they don’t take a box spring. And they’re usually a little rickety from decades of use. “A bed could have gone through five different lives before it comes to us,” says Jeff Jenkins. Nineteenth-century four-poster beds are our specialty and our staff resizes almost all of them to conform to modern standards, before putting them on the showroom floor. You can also bring your own bed to us for restoration. We work wonders with old wooden beds, making them wider and longer, turning three-quarter-size beds into doubles, doubles into queens, and joining twins to make a king.

This might sound like it contradicts what you’ve always heard about antiques - that you shouldn’t alter them in any way, that doing so will make their value plummet - but many experts agree that beds are an exception to that rule. This is because a bed, unlike a table or bureau, can’t be readily enjoyed without these changes. In fact, according to Bruce Newman, president of Newel Art Galleries, an antiques emporium in New York City with about two hundred and fifty beds in stock, resizing can even enhance the bed’s value. “A bed is a functional object, and if it’s not adapted, it can’t be used”. There are, of course, exceptions to the exception. Newman says any bed worth more than $15,000 or $20,000 probably shouldn’t be altered. At the other end of the spectrum, every flea-market bargain may not justify the effort (you should start with a good quality piece of furniture) or the expense (costs range from several hundred to several thousand dollars, depending on the extent of the work).

Some designs lend themselves to resizing better than others. Wooden four-posters similar to the ones pictured on our website are particularly good candidates. Their most decorative elements are the turned posts, which needn’t be altered when enlarging the bed. The headboards are flat, not elaborately carved or embellished, making them easy to replace or extend. The side rails and cross rails were purely structural, not ornamental; the large evenly spaced holes you see were for the ropes that were woven between the rails, forming a support for a mattress of straw, horsehair, or feathers.

Beds with curved headboards or footboards (as on sleigh beds), curved moldings, or intricate carved work are more of a challenge, since it’s difficult to match these parts or make unobtrusive additions. But don’t lose heart; “never say never”, says Lois MacDonald, vice president of Sales and Marketing at Leonards, explaining that there may be elements from the footboard, for example, that can be taken and inserted on either side of the headboard. And with many beds it’s possible to eke out a few more inches, allowing a three-quarter-size bed to take a double mattress without making any significant structural changes.

There are several ways Leonards resizes beds, depending on the bed itself and the result the owner wants. Each piece is approached individually, but there are basic techniques that we follow. When you’re considering adapting an antique bed - or buying one in the first place - it’s useful to know today’s standard mattress sizes. A twin is 39 by 75 inches; double, or full, is 54 by 75 inches; queen is 60 by 80 inches; and king is 76 by 80 inches. Three-quarter-size mattresses, 48 by 75 inches, are still available, but not very popular today.

They were popular in the last century, though, and the conversion from a three-quarter-size bed to a double can be an easy one. In general, a mattress should fit within the side rails, but an alteration like this one, it can actually rest on top. If you measure from the outside of one of the side rails on a three-quarter bed across to the opposite rail, you’ll often gain the extra inches you need for the width of a double mattress; however, the bed is likely to be too short. To fix this, the length of the side rails is extended, a minor change: a new piece of wood is added at one end or in the center and stained to match. Then a wood lip is added inside the rails all the way around, just below the top; this supports a plywood platform flush with the tops of the rails. Now you can lay a double mattress on the plywood (but you can’t use a box spring). This is one of the least intrusive - and least expensive - ways to resize a bed, but it’s not perfect: the mattress may overhang the edge a bit - fine for a guest room, but maybe not for sleeping on every night.

For a queen- or king-size mattress, the work is more elaborate. When a bed is made larger, new pieces need to be added, which may also mean losing some of the old pieces, but it is a Jenkins’s philosophy to keep as much of the original wood as possible. And when adding new parts, we may actually use old wood, culled from our vast collection of antique bed parts. The beds are always reassembled using the original method of mortise and tenon joinery.

Pairs of twins can be transformed into a king-size bed. The technique is appropriate even for the most ornate beds, since you’re not adding new pieces, but make sure your twins look great when placed side by side. The beds’ design dictates how they will be joined, but the process often involves losing one of the headposts and footposts so that there aren’t two butting clumsily in the center of the new bed. And in most cases, the side rails will need to be replaced or extended.

When you’re looking for an old bed, antiques stores may not actually be your best sources. Many dealers don’t carry beds at all because they take up too much room and because the market for beds just isn’t as strong as for other furniture. In addition to specialty stores, estate sales and auctions are well worth combing for beds (and don’t forget to check relatives’ attics and basements). When you find one you love, you may pleasantly surprised by the price tag. Antique beds can even cost less than a good reproduction; they start at about $3,500 and many are less than $5,000.

And if you have it resized, it won’t just be more comfortable to stretch out in, but it will probably be sturdier, as well; during the restoration process, Leonards makes sure the piece is ready for several more generations of use. “A bed has to be sound. It can’t squeak or creak”, says Jenkins, who guarantees his beds for as long as you own them. “I figure that’s safe”, he says, “because they’re already been around for a couple hundred years.”

Originally published in Martha Stewart Living, October 1998.

We are constantly asked how to make a rope foundation on which to put a mattress. It’s a bit complex, but basically you need good rope and a strong twist.

The rope that was widely used in the 18^th and 19^th centuries was made from a plant called hemp. It gave the tightest weave and lasted the longest without loosening. Unfortunately, certain people found that if you smoked this curious plant from India, you really worried less about how up tight either you or the bed were. Eventually, the importation of this plant became illegal. Today, rope is available in natural or synthetic fibers. We prefer natural fiber rope for both its pliability and its authentic appearance.

After making a knot in one end of the rope, you start with the holes in the cross rails, weaving back and forth, parallel to the side rails. To put it another way, you go from head to foot lengthwise up and down the bed. Then, continue from one corner and go across, weaving the rope at right angles this time between each of the lengthwise strands you just did. About now you wish you could use hemp.

Next, find something called a bed “key”, which is a “T” shaped stick, approximately 12 inches long, with a notch in one end. By putting the notch in between the rope and the rail and turning, the rope becomes tight. You then wedge a pin in the hole through which the tightened rope goes, so it won’t go slack again when you move the key to the next rope. You repeat this until all the strands are tight (and FORBID the kids to jump on the bed). The trick is to make the final tie-off knot without loosening the rope. Hence, the old saying “sleep tight”.

One word of caution: If you get over-enthusiastic about tightening the ropes, you may warp the bed frame.

Historically, this loose term was given to all beds from the 18th to mid-19th Centuries. Before box springs, beds consisted of wooden frames laced together with ropes or cords – woven from north to south and east to west – designed to support a “tick” or mattress.

To discover if you have the “real McCoy,” a close examination of the construction and rail material is required. The bed must have mortise and tenon joinery; the posts should be solid not laminated wood, heavy to the touch and out of round. The rails must show evidence where ropes were attached and are the best indicator of age – usually 3” x 4” birch or maple wood.

Lowpost Beds

Lowpost Beds (40”-50”H) are considered more of a common man’s bed today than a tallpost bed. However, early beds of any style were a luxury and not considered a household necessity for each family member until the mid-19th Century. The fanciful designs originated as much from the maker’s desire to be creative as the symbolic beliefs of the day - everything from the revolutionary war cannonball to the new beginnings of the acorn.

Tallpost Beds

Tallpost beds were originally designed to support a canopy frame or “tester” on which draperies would be hung to keep the occupant(s) private and warm. New England tallpost beds began with the simple pencil bed and evolved to the high style elegance of the fluted Chippendale, inlaid Hepplewhite and reeded Sheraton.

Headboards

For most 18th Century beds, headboards were viewed as a practical necessity rather than decoration. The earlier headboards were fit low into the posts near the crossrails to help contain the sewn mattress or “tick” and to keep pillows away from the wall. The average headboard was quite small, only about 12″-14″ high and set into the posts with one long slot rather than two tabs as found in beds after 1800. Over time, bedmakers expressed more creativity in their headboard designs - adding height, decorative scrolls, panels, molding, fancy grained woods, carvings and even rolls for primping and smoothing the mattress. Gone were the simple pine and maple headboards of an earlier era.

Having grown up in the Antique Bed business, I’ve seen many different kinds of beds…from elaborate pineapples to sturdy cannonballs, from fancy, imported mahogany to local tiger maple. Historically, a “rope bed” was a loose term given to all beds from the late 18th to the mid-19th Centuries. Before box springs, beds consisted of wooden frames laced together with ropes woven from head to foot and side to side and then tightened by a bed key. A tick of hay, feather, straw or horse hair would then be placed on the network of ropes and that’s where you slept. The phrases “sleep tight” and “don’t let the bed bugs bite” refer to the sleeping conditions often associated with rope beds. One peculiar-looking New England necessity was the Trundle Bed. Extra space in early New England homes was rare. By design, these little beds on wooden wheels could be tucked away under a bed or eave when not in use. When cleaning out old homes, it’s not unusual to still find these beds – forgotten and untouched New England classics. A friend, just yesterday, happened on the following charming poem which prompted the subject of this article.

“MY TRUNDLE BED” - (1860) Ballad by John C. Baker, 1822-????

As I rummag’d thro’ the attic,
List’ning to the falling rain,
As it patter’d on the shingles
And against the window pane;
Peeping over chests and boxes,
Which with dust were thickly spread;
Saw I in the farthest corner,
What was once my trundle bed.

So I drew it from the recess,
Where it had remain’d so long,
Hearing all the while the music
Of my mother’s voice in song;
As she sang in sweetest accents,
What I since have often read—
“Hush my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed.”

As I list’ned, recollections
That I tho’t had been forgot,
Came with all the gush of mem’ry,
Rushing, thronging to the spot;
And I wander’d back to childhood,
To those merry days of yore,
When I knelt beside my mother,
By this bed upon the floor.

Then it was with hands so gently
Placed upon my infant head,
That she taught my lips to utter
Carefully the words she said;
Never can they be forgotten,
Deep are they in mem’ry riven—
“Hollowed be Thy name, O Father!
Father! Thou who art in heaven.”

This she taght me, then she told me
Of its import great and deep—
After which I learned to utter
“Now I lay me down to sleep”
Then it was with hands uplifted,
And in accents soft and mild,
That my mother asked—”Our Father!
Father! do bless my child!”

Years have pass’d, and that dear mother
Long has molder’d ‘neath the sod,
And I trust her sainted spirit
Revels in the home of God;
But that scene at summer twilight,
Never has from mem’ry fled,
And it comes in all its freshness
When I see my trundle bed.